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I 


ELIZABETHAN  SONNET 
CYCLES 


PHILLIS— LICIA 


LIZABETHAN 
SONNET- 
CYCLES 

EDITED  BY 

MARTHA  FOOTE  CROW 


PHILLIS 

BY 
THOMAS 
LODGE 


BY 

GILES 

FLETCHER 


CHICAGO:   A.  C.  McCLURG  AND  CO. 

1896 


PR 

II  ^5- 


LIBRARY 

IJNlVEllSn V  OF  CALUOiLMA 

SAiVrA  BARBARA 


INTRODUCTION 

The  last  decade  of  the  sixteenth  century  was 
marked  by  an  outburst  of  sonneteering.  To 
devotees  of  the  sonnet,  who  find  in  that  poetic 
form  the  most  perfect  vehicle  that  has  ever  been 
devised  for  the  expression  of  a  single  imjwrtunate 
emotion,  it  will  not  seem  strange  that  at  the 
threshold  of  a  literary  period  whose  characteristic 
note  is  the  most  intense  personality,  the  instinct 
of  poets  should  have  directed  them  to  the  form 
most  perfectly  fitted  for  the  expression  of  this 
inner  motive. 

The  sonnet,  a  distinguished  guest  from  Italy, 
was  ushered  in  by  those  two  "  courtly  makers," 
Wyatt  and  Surrey,  in  the  days  of  Henry  VIII. 
But  when,  forty  years  later,  the  foreigner  was 
to  be  acclimatised  in  England,  her  robe  had  to 
be  altered  to  suit  an  English  fashion.     Thus  the 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

sonnet,  which  had  been  an  octave  of  enclosed  or 
alternate  rhymes,  followed  by  a  sestette  of  inter- 
laced tercets,  was  now  changed  to  a  series  of 
three  quatrains  with  differing  sets  of  alternate 
rhymes  in  each,  at  the  close  of  which  the  insidious 
couplet  succeeded  in  establishing  itself.  But 
these  changes  were  not  made  without  a  great 
deal  of  experiment ;  and  during  the  tentative 
period  the  name  ''sonnet"  was  given  to  a  wide 
variety  of  forms,  in  the  moulding  of  which  but 
one  rule  seemed  to  be  uniformly  obeyed — that 
the  poem  should  be  the  expression  of  a  single, 
simple  emotion.  This  law  cut  the  poem  to  a 
relative  shortness  and  defined  its  dignity  and 
clearness.  Beyond  this  almost  every  combination 
of  rhymes  might  be  found,  verses  were  occasionally 
lengthened  or  shortened,  and  the  immber  of  lines 
in  the  poem,  though  generally  fourteen,  showed 
considerable  variation. 

The  sonnet-sequence  was  also  a  suggestion 
from  Italy,  a  literary  fashion  introduced  by  Sir 
Philip  Sidney,  in  his  Astrophel  and  Stella,  written 
soon  after  1580,  but  not  published  till  15.91.  In  a 
sonnet-cycle  Sidney  recorded  his  love  and  sorrow. 


INTRODUCTION  yii, 

and  Spenser  took  up  the  strain  with  his  story  of 
love  and  joy.  Grouped  about  these^  and  following 
in  their  wake,  a  number  of  poets,  before  the 
decade  was  over,  turned  this  Elizabethan  "  toy  " 
to  their  purpose  in  their  various  self-revealings, 
producing  a  group  of  sonnet-cycles  more  or  less 
Italianate  in  form  or  thought,  more  or  less  experi- 
mental, more  or  less  poetical,  more  or  less  the 
expression  of  a  real  passion.  For  while  the  form 
of  the  sonnet  was  modified  by  metrical  traditions 
and  habits,  the  content  also  was  strongly  influenced, 
not  to  say  restricted,  by  certain  conventions  of 
thought  considered  at  the  time  appropriate  to  the 
poetic  attitude.  The  passion  for  classic  colour  in 
the  poetic  world,  which  had  inspired  and  dis- 
ciplined English  genius  in  the  sixties  and  seventies, 
was  rather  nourished  than  repressed  when  in  the 
eighties  Spenser's  Shepherd's  Calendar  and  Sidney's 
Arcadia  made  the  pastoral  imagery  a  necessity. 
Cupid  and  Diana  were  made  very  much  at  home 
in  the  golden  world  of  the  renaissance  Arcadia, 
and  the  sonneteer  singing  the  praises  of  his 
mistress's  eyebrow  was  not  far  removed  from  the 
lovelorn  shepherd  of  the  plains. 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

It  may  reasonably  be  expected  that  in  any 
sonnet-cycle  there  will  be  found  many  sonnets  in 
praise  of  the  loved  one's  beauty,  many  lamenting 
her  hardness  of  heart ;  all  the  wonders  of  heaven 
and  earth  will  be  catalogued  to  find  comparisons 
for  her  loveliness ;  the  river  by  which  she  dwells 
will  be  more  pleasant  than  all  other  rivers  in  the 
world,  a  list  of  them  being  appended  in  proof; 
the  thoughts  of  night-time,  when  the  lover 
bemoans  himself  and  his  rejected  state,  or  dreams 
of  happy  love,  will  be  dwelt  upon  ;  oblivious  sleep 
and  the  wan-faced  moon  will  be  invoked,  and 
death  will  be  called  upon  for  respite.  Love  and 
the  praises  of  the  loved  one  was  the  theme.  On 
this  old  but  ever  new  refrain  the  sonneteer  devised 
his  descant,  trilling  joyously  on  oaten  pipe  in 
praise  of  Delia  or  Phyllis,  Coelia,  Caelica,  Aurora, 
or  Castara. 

But  this  melody  and  descant  were  not,  in  some 
ears  at  least,  without  monotony.  For  after  Daniel's 
Delia,  Constable's  Diana,  Lodge's  Philli/i,  Drayton's 
Idea,  Fletcher's  Licia,  Brooke's  Ccelica,  Percy's 
Coelia,  N.  L.'s  Zepheria,  and  J.  C.'s  Alcilia,  and 
perhaps   a    few    other    sonnet-cycles    had    been 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

written.  Chapman  in  1 595  made  his  Coronet  for 
his  Mistress  Pkilosopki/,  the  opening  sonnet  of 
which  reveals  his  critical  attitude  : 

"  Muses  that  sing  Love's  sensual  empery, 
And  lovers  kindling  your  enragM  fires 
At  Cupid's  bonfires  burning  in  the  eye, 
Blown  with  the  empty  breath  of  vain  desires, 
You  that  prefer  the  painted  cabinet 
Before  the  wealthy  jewels  it  doth  store  ye, 
That  all  your  joys  in  dying  figures  set, 
And  stain  the  living  substance  of  your  glory. 
Abjure  those  joys,  abhor  their  memory. 
And  let  my  love  the  honoured  subject  be 
Of  love,  and  honour's  complete  history  ; 
Your  eyes  were  never  yet  let  in  to  see 
The  majesty  and  riches  of  the  mind, 
But  dwell  in  darkness  ;  for  your  god  is  blind." 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  "  painted  cabinet " 
of  the  lady's  beauty  absorbs  more  attention  than 
the  "majesty  and  riches  of  the  mind,"  but  the 
glints  of  a  loftier  ideal  shining  now  and  then 
among  the  conventions,  lift  the  cycle  above  the 
level  of  mere  ear-pleasing  rhythms  and  fantastical 
imageries.  Moreover,  the  sonnet-cycles  on  the 
whole  show  an  independence  and  spontaneousness 

b 


X  INTRODUCTION 

of  poetic  energy,  a  delight  in  the  pure  joy  of 
making,  a  naivete,  that  richly  frame  the  picture  of 
the  golden  world  they  present.  When  Lodge, 
addressing  his  "  pleasing  thoughts,  apprentices  of 
love,"  cries  out  : 

"  Show  to  the  world,  though  poor  and  Scant  my 
skill  is, 
How  sweet  thoughts  be  that  are  but  thought 
on  Phillis," 

we  feel  that  we  are  being  taken  back  to  an  age 
more  childlike  than  our  own ;  and  when  the 
sonneteers  vie  with  each  other  on  the  themes  of 
sleep,  death,  time,  and  immortality,  the  door  often 
stands  open  toward  sublimity.  Then  when  the 
sonnet-cycle  was  consecrated  to  noble  and  spiritual 
uses  in  Chapman's  Coronet  for  his  Mistress  Philo- 
sophic, Barnes's  Divine  Century  of  Spiritual  Soimets, 
Constable's  Spiritual  Sonnets  in  Honour  of  God  and 
His  Saints,  and  Donne's  Holi/  Sonnets,  all  made 
before  I6OO,  the  symbolic  theme  was  added  to 
the  conventions  of  the  sonnet-realm,  the  scope  of 
its  content  was  broadened,  and  the  sonnet  was 
veil  on  its  way  toward  a  time  when  it  could  be 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

naiKied  a  trumpet,  upon  which  a  mighty  voice 
could  blow  soul-animating  strains. 

One  of  the  most  fascinating  questions  in  the 
study  of  the  sonnet-cycles  is  as  to  how  much 
basis  the  story  has  in  reality.  Stella  we  know, 
the  star-crossed  love  of  Sidney,  and  Spenser's 
happy  Elizabeth,  but 

"  Who  is  Silvia  ?     What  is  she 
That  all  the  swains  commend  her  ? 

Who  is  Delia,  Diana,  Ccelia,  Caelica,  and  all  the 
rhyming  of  musical  names  ?  And  who  is  the 
Dark  Lady.''  What  personalities  hide  behind 
these  poet's  imaginings .''  We  know  that  now, 
as  in  troubadour  days,  the  praises  of  grand  ladies 
were  sung  with  a  warmth  of  language  that  should 
indicate  personal  acquaintance  when  no  such  ac- 
quaintance existed  ;  and  the  sonneteers  sometimes 
frankly  confessed  their  passion  "  but  supposed." 
All  this  adds  to  the  difficulty  of  interpretation. 
In  most  cases  the  poet  has  effectually  kept  his 
secret ;  the  search  is  futile,  in  spite  of  all  the 
"scholastic  labour-lost"  devoted  to  it.  Equally 
tantalising  are  the  fleeting  symbolisms  that  suggest 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

themselves  now  and  then.  The  confession  some- 
times made  by  the  poet,  that  high-flown  com- 
pliment and  not  true  despair  is  intended,  prepares 
us  to  accept  the  symbolic  application  where  it 
forces  itself  upon  us,  and  to  feel  the  presence 
here  and  there  of  platonic  or  spiritual  shadowings. 
Those  who  do  not  find  pleasure  in  the  Arcadian 
world  of  the  sonneteer's  fancy,  may  still  justify 
their  taste  in  the  aspiration  that  speaks  in  his 
flashes  of  philosophy. 


PHILLIS 

HONORED  WITH  PASTORAL 
SONNETS,  ELEGIES,  AND 
AMOROUS      DELIGHTS 

BY 

THOMAS   LODGE 


THOMAS   LODGE 

One  of  the  first  to  take  up  the  new  fashion  of  the 
sonnet-cycle,  was  Thomas  Lodge,  whose  "  PhilHs  " 
was  pubhshed  m  159.^.  Lodge  had  a  wide  ac- 
(juaintance  among  the  authors  of  his  time,  and 
was  in  the  thick  of  the  literary  activity  in  the  last 
two  decades  of  the  sixteenth  century.  But  in 
sjnte  of  his  interesting  })ersonality  and  genius,  he 
has  had  to  wait  until  the  present  time  for  full 
appreciation.  To  his  own  age  he  may  have  ap- 
peared as  a  literary  dilettante,  who  tried  his  hand 
at  several  forms  of  writing,  and  being  outshone  by 
the  more  excellent  in  each  field,  gave  up  the 
attempt  and  turned  to  the  practice  of  medicine. 
This  profession  engaged  him  for  the  last  twenty- 
five  years  of  his  life,  until  his  death  in  l625  at  the 
advanced  age  of  sixty-seven  or  eight.     During  all 


4  PHILLIS 

these  years  the  gay  young  "  university  wit  "  of 
earlier  days  was  probably  forgotten  in  the  vener- 
able and  successful  physician.  It  was  as  "old 
Doctor  Lodge  "  that  he  was  satirised  in  a  Cam- 
bridge student's  Common-place  Book  in  I6II. 
Heywood  mentions  him  in  l609  among  the  six 
most  famous  physicians  in  England,  and  in  the 
Return  from  Par)iassus,  a  play  acted  in  ]602,  he  is 
described  as  "  turning  over  Galen  every  day." 

Yet  no  one  had  been  in  the  last  twenty  years 
of  the  sixteenth  century  more  responsive  than 
Lodge  to  the  shifting  moods  of  that  excitable 
period.  Lodge  was  the  son  of  a  Lord  Mayor  of 
London,  and  was  a  contemporary  at  Oxford  with 
Sidney,  Gosson,  Chapman,  Lyly,  Peele  and  Wat- 
son. His  life  included  a  round  of  varied  experi- 
ences. A  student  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  a  young 
aspirant  for  literary  honours,  friends  with  Greene, 
Rich,  Daniel,  Drayton,  Lyly  and  Watson,  a  taster 
of  the  sorrows  that  many  of  the  University  wits 
endured  when  usurers  got  their  hands  upon  them, 
for  a  time  perhaps  a  soldier,  certainly  a  sailor 
following  the  fortunes  of  Captain  Clarke  to  Ter- 
ceras   and     tli<»    Canaries,    and    of  Cavendish    to 


PHILLIS  5 

Brazil  and  the  Straits  of  Magellan,  in  London 
again  making  plays  with  Greene,  off  to  Avignon 
to  take  his  degree  in  medicine,  back  again  to  be 
incorporated  an  M.D.  at  Oxford  and  to  practise  in 
London,  adopting  secretly  the  Roman  Catholic 
faith,  and  sometimes  hiding  on  the  continent  as  a 
recusant  from  persecution  at  home,  imprisoned 
perhaps  once  for  debt,  and  entertaining  a  con- 
course of  patients  of  his  own  religion  till  his 
death  in  l625  : — the  life  of  Lodge  thus  presents 
a  view  of  the  ups  and  downs  possible  in  that 
picturesque  age. 

The  wide  variety  of  his  literary  ventures  re- 
flects the  interests  of  his  life.  Some  conti'oversial 
papers,  some  unsuccessful  plays,  two  dull  his- 
torical sketches  in  prose,  some  satirical  and  moral- 
ising works  in  prose  and  in  verse,  two  romantic 
tales  in  verse  and  three  in  prose,  a  number  of 
eclogues,  meti*ical  epistles  and  lyrics,  some  pon- 
derous translations  from  Latin  and  French,  and 
two  medical  treatises ;  these  widely  differing 
kinds  of  writing  are  the  products  of  Lodge's 
industry  and  genius.  All,  however,  have  but  an 
antiquarian  interest  save  two  ;  the  prose  romance 


6  PHILLIS 

called  Rosalynde,  Enphues'  Golden  Lcgoa/,  could 
not  be  spared  since  Shakespeare  borrowed  its 
charming  plot  for  As  You  Like  It;  and  Phil/is, 
bound  up  with  a  sheaf  of  his  lyrics  gathered  from 
the  pages  of  his  stories  and  from  the  miscel- 
lanies of  the  time,  should  be  treasured  for  its 
own  sake  and  should  keep  Lodge's  memory  green 
for  lovers  of  pure  poetry. 

Lodge's  lyric  genius  was  a  clear  if  slender  rill. 
His  faults  are  the  more  unpardonable  since  they 
spring  from  sheer  carelessness  and  a  lack  of 
appreciation  of  the  sacred  responsibility  of  creative 
power.  He  took  up  the  literary  fashion  of  the 
month  and  tried  his  hand  at  it ;  that  done,  he  was 
ready  for  the  next  mode.  He  did  not  wait  to 
perfect  his  work  or  to  compare  result  with  result ; 
therefore  he  probably  never  found  himself,  prob- 
ably never  realised  that  after  three  centuries  he 
would  be  esteemed,  not  for  the  ponderous  tomes  of 
his  translation  of  Josephus,  not  for  all  the  catalogues 
of  his  satirical  and  religious  and  scientific  writings, 
but  for  mere  lyrics  like  the  "Heigh  ho,  fair  Rosa- 
line/' and  "  Love  in  my  bosom  like  a  bee,"  heed- 
lessly imbedded  in  the  heart  of  a  prose  romance. 


PHILLIS  7 

Lodge  was  one  of  the  earliest  to  follow  the 
example  of  Sidney  in  linking  a  sequence  of  sonnets 
together  into  a  sonnet-cycle.  The  Astrophel  and 
Stella  was  pubHshed  in  1591,  though  it  had  doubt- 
less before  this  been  handed  about,  as  was  the 
Elizabethan  fashion,  in  manuscript.  Early  in  1591 
also,  when  Daniel  was  probably  abroad,  twenty- 
seven  of  the  fifty-sev6n  sonnets  that  a  year  later 
formed  the  sonnet-cycle  Delia  were  published  in 
his  absence.  Now  in  August  of  1591  Lodge  set 
sail  with  Cavendish  on  that  long  voyage  to  Brazil 
and  the  Straits  of  Magellan  from  which  he  did 
not  return  till  early  in  ninety-three,  and  it  was 
during  his  absence  that  Daniel's  and  Constable's 
sonnet-cycles  came  out.  It  is  possible  that  Lodge 
saw  Daniel's  series,  as  he  doubtless  did  Sidney's,  in 
manuscript  before  he  left  England,  but  the  Induc- 
tion to  Phillis,  which  carries  a  message  to  Delia's 
"sweet  prophet,"  Avas  almost  certamly  written 
later,  and  in  the  absence  of  further  proof  it  seems 
no  more  than  fair  to  allow  Lodge  to  shave  with 
Daniel  and  Constable  the  honour  of  being  the 
earliest  to  take  the  hint  Sidney  had  offered. 

On  the  whole.  Lodge's  sonnets  show  a   much 


8  PHILLIS 

more  cheerful  and  buoyant  temper  than  Daniel's 
*' wailing  verse."  The  "sad  horror,  pale  grief, 
prostrate  despair"  that  inform  the  Delia,  are  re- 
placed in  the  Phillis  by  a  spirit  of  airy  toying,  a 
pleasure  in  the  graces  of  fancy  even  when  they 
cluster  around  a  feeling  of  sadness.  During 
Lodge's  absence,  his  friend  Robert  Green  jiub- 
lished  several  pieces  for  him,  and  in  one  of  the 
prefaces  promised  the  public  to  present  on  his 
return  "what  labours  Lodge's  sea-studies  afford." 
Phillis  was  the  chief  of  these  sea-studies,  and  was 
like  Rosalynde  "  hatcht  in  the  stontnes  of  the 
ocean  and  feathered  in  the  surges  of  many  peril- 
lous  seas."  But  as  far  as  the  imagery  of  the 
sonnets  is  concerned,  the  pageantry  of  day  and 
night  at  sea  might  have  passed  before  blinded 
eyes  ;  if  it  made  any  impression,  it  was  in  the  form 
of  ocean-nymphs  and  Cupid  at  the  helm.  The 
poet  was  in  Arcadia,  Phillis  was  a  shepherdess, 
and  the  conventional  imageries  of  the  pastoral 
valley  were  the  environment.  "  May  it  please 
you,"  he  says  in  dedicating  the  book  to  the 
Countess  of  Shrewsbury,  "  to  looke  and  like  of 
homlie  Phillis   in   her   Country   caroling,  and  to 


PHILLIS  9 

countenance  her  poore  and  affectionate  sheap- 
heard."  The  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  he  chooses 
for  the  "  Sovereign  and  she-Maecenas  "  of  his  toil, 
and  promises  her  "  as  much  in  affection  as  any 
other  can  performe  in  perfection  ; "  but  the  name 
of  Phillis  is  no  cover  for  the  personaHty  of  a  grand 
lady,  and  therefore  no  puzzling  questions  disturb 
the  pleasure  of  the  reader  as  the  gentle  modula- 
tions, the  insidious  alliterations,  and  the  musical 
cadences  of  his  double  rhymes  fall  upon  the  ear. 

Yet  for  this  name  or  ideal,  or  whatever  Phillis 
represented  in  the  poet's  thought,  he  has  poured 
forth  a  passion  that  has  an  air  of  sincerity,  an 
artless  freshness,  a  flute-like  clearness  of  tone,  as 
rare  as  delightful.  It  is  the  very  voice  of  the 
oaten  pipe  itself,  thin,  clear,  and  pure.  The  touches 
of  seriousness  are  impossible  to  mistake.  When 
the  poet  avows  his  faith  in  Phillis'  constancy,  after 
giving  the  usual  catalogue  of  her  beauties,  he  says  : 

"  At  thy  fair  hands  who  wonders  not  at  all 
Wonder  itself  through  ignorance  embases  ; 
Yet  not  the  less  though  wondrous  gifts  you  call 

these 
My  faith  is  far  more  wonderful  than  all  these." 


10  PHILLIS 

When  Phillis  persists  in  her  disdain,  he  cries  out 
impulsively : 

"  Burst,  burst,  poor  heart,  thou  hast  no  longer  hopel" 

Even  when  re-moulding  the  familiar  pastoral  con- 
ceits, he  makes  the  fancies  his  own  and  gives  to 
them  a  unique  touch  and  spirit.  Mere  conventions 
he  rates  at  their  proper  value.  His  pen  shall  not 
"riot  in  pompous  style."  He  claims  a  brighter 
aspect  for  his  poetical  devotion  than  his  fellow- 
sonneteers  manifest  : 

"  No  stars  her  eyes.  .  .  . 

....  but  beams  that  clear  the  sight 
Of  him  that  seeks  the  true  philosophy." 

In  spite  of  its  defects,  the  lax  structure 
of  the  sonnet-form,  the  obscurities  and  needless 
blurring,  and  the  disappointing  inequalities,  Phillis 
takes  a  high  place  among  the  sonnet-cycles,  and 
must  ever  be  dear  to  lovers  of  quiet,  melodious 
verse,  who  have  made  themselves  at  home  in  the 
golden  world  of  the  pastoral  poets  and  mislike 
not  the  country-carolling  heard  therein. 


THE    INDUCTION 

I  THAT  obscured  have  fled  the  scene  of  fame, 
Intitling  my  conceits  to  nought  but  care, 
I  that  have  lived  a  phoenix  in  love's  flame, 

And  felt  that  death  I  never  would  declare, 
Now  mount  the  theater  of  this  our  age. 
To  plead  my  faith  and  Cupid's  cursed  rage. 

Oh  you  high  sp'rited  paragons  of  vnt, 
That  fly  to  fame  beyond  our  earthly  pitch, 
Whose  sense  is  sound,  whose  words  are  feat  and 

fit. 
Able  to  make  the  coyest  ear  to  itch  ; 

Shroud  with  your  mighty  wings  that  mount  sa 

well. 
These   little    loves,   new   crept   from   out   the 
shell. 


12  PHILLIS 

And  thou  the  true  Octavia  of  our  time, 
Under  whose  worth  beauty  was  never  matched. 
The  genius  of  my  muse  and  ragged  rime. 
Smile  on  these  httle  loves  but  lately  hatched, 

Who  from  the  wrastling  waves  have  made  re- 
treat. 

To  plead  for  life  before  thy  judgment  seat. 

And  though  the  fore-bred  brothei's  they  have  had, 
Who  in  their  swan-like  songs  Amintas  wept. 
For  all  their  sweet-thought  sighs  had  fortune  bad. 
And  twice  obscured  in  Cinthia's  circle  slept. 
Yet  these  I  hope,  under  your  kind  aspect, 
Most  worthy  Lady,  shall  escape  neglect. 

And  if  these  infants  of  mine  artless  brain. 
Not  by  their  worth  but  by  thy  worthiness, 
A  mean  good  liking  of  the  learned  gain. 
My  Muse  enfranchised  from  forgetfulness 

Shall  hatch  such  breed  in  honour  of  thy  name. 
As  modem  poets  shall  admire  the  same. 

As  modern  poets  shall  admire  the  same  ; 
1  mean  not  you  (you  never  matched  men) 
Who  brought  the  chaos  of  our  tongue  in  frame, 
Through  these  Herculean  labours  of  your  pen  ; 


PHILLIS  IS 

I  mean  the  mean,  I  mean  no  men  divine, 
But   such   whose   feathers  are  but  waxed  like 
mine. 

Go,  weeping  truce-men  in  your  sighing  weeds, 
Under  a  great  Maecenas  I  have  passed  you  ; 
If  so  you  come  where  learned  Colin  feeds 
His  lovely  flock,  pack  thence  and  quickly  haste 
you; 
You  ai-e  but  mists  before  so  bright  a  sun. 
Who  hath  the  palm  for  deep  invention  Avon. 

Kiss  Delia's  hand  for  her  sweet  prophet's  sake. 
Whose  not  aflFected  but  well  couched  tears 
Have  power,  have  worth,  a  marble  mind  to  shake. 
Whose  fame  no  iron-age  or  time  outwears. 
Then  lay  you  down  in  Phillis'  lap  and  sleep. 
Until  the  weeping  read,  and  reading  weep. 


14  PHILLIS 


Oh  pleasing  thoughts,  apprentices  of  love. 
Fore-runners  of  desire,  sweet  mithridates 
The  poison  of  my  sorrows  to  remove. 
With  whom  my  hopes  and  fear  full  oft  debates  ! 
Enrich  yourselves  and  me  by  your  self  riches. 
Which  are  the  thoughts  you  spend  on  heaven-bred 

beauty. 
Rouse  you  my  muse  beyond  our  poets'  pitches. 
And,  working  wonders,  yet  say  all  is  duty  ! 

Use  you  no  eaglets'  eyes,  nor  phcEnix'  feathers. 
To    tower    the    heaven    from    whence    heaven's 

wonder  sallies. 
For    why  ?       Your     sun    sings    sweetly    to    her 

weathers. 
Making  a  spring  of  winter  in  the  valleys. 

Show  to  the  Avorld  though  poor  and  scant  my 

skill  is 
How  sweet  thoughts  be,  that  are  but  thought 
on  Phillis  ! 


PHILLIS  15 


You  sacred  sea-nymphs  pleasantly  disporting 
Amidst  this  wat'ry  world,  where  now  I  sail ; 
If  ever  love,  or  lovers  sad  reporting, 
Had  power   sweet  tears  from  your  fair   eyes  to 
hail ; 
And  you,  more  gentle-hearted  than  the  rest. 
Under  the  northern  noon-stead  sweetly  stream- 
ing. 
Lend  those  moist  riches  of  your  crystal  crest. 
To   quench    the    flames    from    my    heart's    ^tna 
streaming ; 
And  thou,  kind  Triton,  in  thy  trumpet  relish 
The  ruthful  accents  of  my  discontent. 
That  midst  this  travel  desolate  and  hellish. 
Some  gentle  wind  that  listens  my  lament 
May  prattle  in  the  north  in  Phillis'  ears : 
"  Where    Phillis   wants,    Damon   consumes   in 
tears." 


16  PHILLIS 


In  fancy's  world  an  Atlas  have  I  been, 
WTiere  yet  the  chaos  of  my  ceaseless  care 
Is  by  her  eyes  unpitied  and  unseen. 
In  whom  all  gifts  but  pity  planted  are  ; 

For   mercy   though    still    cries    my   moan-clad 
muse. 
And  every  paper  that  she  sends  to  beauty. 
In  tract  of  sable  tears  brings  woeful  news, 
Of  my  true  heart-kind  thoughts,  and  loyal  duty. 

But   ah   the   strings   of    her    hard    heart   are 
strained 
Beyond  the  harmony  of  my  desires  ; 
And  though  the  happy  heavens  themselves  have 

pained. 
To  tame  her  heart  whose  will  so  far  aspires, 

Yet  she  who  claims  the  title  of  world's  wonder, 

Thinks  all  deserts  too  base  to  bring  her  under. 


PHILLIS  17 


IV 

Long  hath  my  sufferance  laboiu-ed  to  enforce 
One  pearl  of  pity  from  her  pretty  eyes, 
Whilst  I  with  restless  rivers  of  remorse. 
Have   bathed   the   banks  where   my  fair   Phillis 
lies. 

The    moaning    lines   which   weeping    I    have 
written. 
And  writing  read  unto  my  ruthful  sheep, 
And  reading  sent  with  teax's  that  never  fitten^ 
To  my  love's  queen,  that  hath  my  heart  in  keep. 

Have  made  my  lambkins  lay  them  down  and 
sigh; 
But  Phillis  sits,  and  reads,  and  calls  them  trifles. 
Oh  heavens,  why  climb  not  happy  lines  so  high. 
To  rent  that  ruthless  heart  that  all  hearts  rifles  ! 

None  writes  with  truer  faith,  or  greater  love. 

Yet  out,  alas  !  I  have  no  power  to  move. 


18  PHILLIS 


Ah  pale  and  dying  infant  of  the  spring. 
How  rightly  now  do  I  resemble  thee  ! 
That    selfsame    hand    that    thee    from    stalk    did 

wring. 
Hath  rent  my  breast  and  robbed  my  heart  from 
me. 
Yet  shalt  thou   live.     For  why  ?     Thy  native 
vigour 
Shall  thrive  by  woeful  dew-drops  of  my  dolor  ; 
And  from   the  wounds    I    bear   through   fancy's 

rigour. 
My  streaming  blood  shall  yield  the  crimson  color. 
The    ravished    sighs    that   ceaseless  take   their 
issue 
From  out  the  furnace  of  my  heart  inflamed. 
To  yield  you  lasting  springs  shall  never  miss  you  ; 
So  by  my  plaints  and  pains,  you  shall  be  famed. 
Let  my   heart's   heat   and   cold,   thy   crimson 

nourish. 
And  by  my  sorrows  let  thy  beauty  flourish. 


PHILLIS  19 


It  is  not  death  which  wretched  men  call  dying. 
But  that  is  very  death  which  I  endure, 
When  my  coy-looking  nymph,  her  grace  envying. 
By  fatal  frowns  my  domage  doth  procure. 

It  is  not  life  which  we  for  life  approve. 
But  that  is  life  when  on  her  wool-soft  paps 
I  seal  sweet  kisses  which  do  batten  love. 
And  doubling  them  do  treble  my  good  haps. 

'Tis  neither  love  the  son,  nor  love  the  mother. 
Which  lovers  praise  and  pray  to  ;  but  that  love  is 
Which  she  in  eye  and  I  in  heart  do  smother. 
Then  muse  not  though  I  glory  in  my  miss. 

Since   she   who    holds   my   heart   and   me    in 
durance. 

Hath  life,  death,  love  and  all  in  her  procurance. 


so  P  H  I  L  L I S 


vu 

How  languisheth  the  primrose  of  love's  garden  ! 
How  trill  her  tearSj  th'  elixir  of  my  senses  ! 
Ambitious  sickness,  what  doth  thee  so  harden  ? 
Oh  spare,  and  plague  thou  me  for  her  offences  ! 

Ah  roses,  love's  fair  roses,  do  not  languish ; 
Blush  through  the  milk-white  veil  that  holds  you 

covered. 
If  heat  or  cold  may  mitigate  your  anguish, 
I'll  burn,  I'll  freeze,  but  you  shall  be  recovered. 
Good   God,    would   beauty   mark   now   she   is 
erased, 
How   but   one   shower   of    sickness    makes    her 

tender. 
Her  judgments  then  to  mark  my  woes  amazed. 
To  mercy  should  opinion's  fort  surrender  ! 

And  I, — oh  would  I  might,  or  would  she  meant 

it! 
Should  hery*  love,  who  now  in  heart  lament  it. 

*  hery,  praise. 


PHILLIS  21 


No  stars  her  eyes  to  clear  the  wandering  night, 
But  shining  suns  of  true  divinity. 
That  make  the  soul  conceive  her  perfect  light ! 
No  wanton  beauties  of  humanity 

Her  pretty  brows,  but  beams  that  clear  the  sight 
Of  him  that  seeks  the  true  })hilosophy  ! 
No  coral  is  her  lip,  no  rose  her  fair. 
But  even  that  crimson  that  adorns  the  sun. 

No  nymph  is  she,  but  mistress  of  the  air. 
By  whom  my  glories  are  but  new  begun. 

But  when  I  touch  and  taste  as  others  do, 

I  then  shall  write  and  you  shall  wonder  too. 


22  PHILLIS 


IX 

The  dewy  roseate  Mom  had  with  ner  hairs 
In  sundry  sorts  the  Indian  clime  adorned  ; 
And  now  her  eyes  apparrel^d  in  tears. 
The  loss  of  lovely  Memnon  long  had  mourned, 

When  as  she  spied  the  nymph  whom  I  admire. 
Combing  her  locks,  of  which  the  yellow  gold 
Made  blush  the  beauties  of  her  curled  wire. 
Which  heaven  itself  with  wonder  might  behold  ; 

Then  red  with  shame,  her  reverend  locks  she 
rent, 
And  weeping  hid  the  beauty  of  her  face. 
The  flower  of  fancy  wrought  such  discontent ; 
The  sighs  which  midst  the  air  she    breathed  a 
space, 

A  three-days'  stormy  tempest  did  maintain. 

Her  shame  a  fire,  her  eyes  a  swelling  rain. 


P  H  I  L  L I S  23 


The  rumour  runs  that  here  in  Isis  swim 
Such  stately  swans  so  confident  in  dying. 
That  when  they  feel  themselves  near  Lethe's  brim. 
They  sing  their  fatal  dirge  when  death  is  nighing. 

And  I  like  these  that  feel  my  wounds  are  mortal. 
Contented  die  for  her  whom  I  adore  ; 
And  in  my  joyful  hymns  do  still  exhort  all 
To  die  for  such  a  saint  or  love  no  more. 

Not  that  my  torments  or  her  tyranny 
Enforce  me  to  enjoin  so  hard  a  task. 
But  for  I  know,  and  yield  no  reason  why. 
But  will  them  try  that  have  desire  to  ask. 

As  love  hath  wreaths  his  pretty  eyes  to  seel. 

So  lovers  must  keep  secret  what  they  feel. 


24  PHILLIS 


XI 

My  frail  and  earthly  bark,  by  reason's  guide. 
Which  holds  the  helm,  whilst  will  doth  wield  the 

sail, 
By  my  desires,  the  winds  of  bad  betide. 
Hath  sailed  these  worldly  seas  with  small  avail. 
Vain  objects  serve  for  dreadful  rocks  to  quail 
My  brittle  boat  from  haven  of  life  that  flies 
To  haunt  the  sea  of  mundane  miseries. 
My  soul  that  draws  impressions  from  above. 

And    views    my   course,    and    sees    the    winds 
aspire. 
Bids  reason  watch  to  scape  the  shoals  of  love  ; 
But  lawless  will  enflamed  with  endless  ire 
Doth  steer  empoop,*  whilst  reason  doth  retire. 
The  streams  increase ;  love's  waves  my  bark  do 

fill; 
Thus  are  they  wracked  that  guide  their  course 
by  will. 

*  steer  empoop  {text :  steerem  poop) :  en  poupe. 


PHILLIS  25 


xu 

Ah  trees,  why  fall  your  leaves  so  fast  ? 

Ah  rocks,  where  are  your  robes  of  moss  ? 

Ah  flocks,  why  stand  you  all  aghast  ? 

Trees,  rocks,  and  flocks,  what,  are  you  pensive  for 
my  loss  ? 
The  birds  methinks  tune  naught  but  moan. 

The  winds  breathe  naught  but  bitter  plaint, 

The  beasts  forsake  their  dens  to  groan  ; 

Birds,  winds,  and  beasts,  what  doth  my  loss  your 
powers  attaint  ? 
Floods  weep  their  springs  above  their  bounds. 

And  echo  wails  to  see  my  woe. 

The  robe  of  ruth  doth  clothe  the  grounds  ; 

Floods,  echo,  grounds,  why  do  you  all  these  tears 
bestow  ? 
The  trees,  the  rocks,  and  flocks  reply. 
The  birds,  the  winds,  the  beasts  report. 
Floods,  echo,  grounds,  for  sorrow  cry, 

We-  grieve  since  Phillis  nill   kind   Damon's   love 
consort. 


26  PHILLIS 


xm 

Love  guides  the  roses  of  thy  lips. 
And  flies  about  them  like  a  bee  ; 
If  I  approach  he  forward  skips. 
And  if  I  kiss  he  stingeth  me. 

Love  in  thine  eyes  doth  build  his  bower, 
And  sleeps  within  their  pretty  shine  ; 
And  if  I  look  the  boy  will  lower. 
And  from  their  orbs  shoots  shafts  divine. 

Love  works  thy  heart  within  his  fire. 
And  in  my  tears  doth  firm  the  same ; 
And  if  I  tempt  it  will  retire. 
And  of  my  plaints  doth  make  a  game. 

Love,  let  me  cull  her  choicest  flowers. 
And  pity  me,  and  calm  her  eye. 
Make  soft  her  heart,  dissolve  her  lowers, 
Then  will  I  praise  thy  deity. 

But  if  thou  do  not  love,  I'll  truly  serve  her 

In  spite  of  thee,  and  by  firm  faith  deserve  her. 


PHILLIS  27 


I  WROTE  in  Mirrha's  bark,  and  as  I  wrote, 
Poor  Mirrha  wept  because  I  wrote  foi'saken  ; 
'Twas  of  thy  pride  I  sung  in  weeping  note. 
When  as  her  leaves  great  moan  for  pity  maken. 

The  falling  fountains  from  the   mountains  fall- 
ing. 
Cried  out,    alas,  so  fair  and  be  so  cruel ! 
And  babbling  echo  never  ceased  calling, 
Phillis,  disdain  is  fit  for  none  but  truthless. 

The  rising  pines  wherein  I  had  engraved 
Thy  memory  consulting  with  the  wind. 
Are    trucemen   to    thy    heart   and   thoughts   de- 
praved. 
And  say,  thy  kind  should  not  be  so  unkind. 

But,  out  alas  !  so  fell  is  Philhs  fearless. 

That  she  hath  made  her  Damon  well  nigh  tear- 
less. 


28  PHILLIS 


My  Phillis  hath  the  moniing  sun 

At  first  to  look  upon  her. 
And  Phillis  hath  morn-waking  birds. 

Her  risings  for  to  honour. 
My  Phillis  hath  prime-feathered  flowers. 

That  smile  when  she  treads  on  them, 
And  Phillis  hath  a  gallant  flock. 

That  leaps  since  she  doth  own  them. 
But  Phillis  hath  so  hard  a  heart — 

Alas  that  she  should  have  it ! — 
As  yields  no  mercy  to  desert. 

Nor  grace  to  those  that  crave  it. 

Sweet  sun,  when  thou  look'st  on. 

Pray  her  regard  my  moan. 

Sweet  birds,  when  you  sing  to  her. 

To  yield  some  pity  avoo  her. 

Sweet  flowers,  whenas  she  treads  on, 

Tell  her,  her  beauty  deads  one. 
And  if  in  life  her  love  she  nill  agree  me. 
Pray  her  before  I  die,  she  will  come  see  me. 


P  H  I  L  L I  S  29 

XVI 

I  PART ;  but  how  ?  from  joy,  from  hope,  from  hfe  ; 
I   leave ;    but  whom  ?    love's   pride,    wit's   pomp, 

heart's  bliss  ; 
I  pine  ;  for  what  ?  for  grief,  for  thought,  for  strife  ; 
I  faint ;  and  why  ?  because  I  see  my  miss. 
Oh  ceaseless  pains  tliat  never  may  be  told. 
You  make  me  weep  as  I  to  water  would  ! 
Ah  weary  hopes,  in  deep  oblivious  streams 
Go  seek  your  graves,  since  you  have  lost  your 

grounds ! 
Ah  pensive  heart,  seek  out  her  radiant  gleams  ! 
For  why  ?    Thy  bliss  is  shut  within  those  bounds  ! 
All  traitorous  eyes,  to[o]  feeble  in  for[e]  sight. 
Grow  dim  with  woe,  that  now  must  want  your 
light ! 
I  part  from  bliss  to  dwell  with  ceaseless  moan, 
I  part  from  life,  since  I  from  beauty  part, 
I  part  from  peace,  to  pine  in  care  alone, 
I  part  from  ease  to  die  with  dreadful  smart. 
I  part — oh  death  !  for  why  ?  this  world  contains 
More  care  and  woe  than  wdth  despair  remains. 
Oh  loath  depart,  wherein  such  sorrows  dwell. 
As  all  conceits  are  scant  the  same  to  tell  J 


30  PHILLIS 


Ah  fleeting  weal^  ah  sly  deluding  sleep. 
That  in  one  moment  giv'st  me  joy  and  pain  ! 
How  do  my  hopes  dissolve  to  tears  in  vain. 
As  wont  the  snows,  'fore  angry  sun  to  weep  ! 

Ah  noisome  life  that  hath  no  weal  in  keep  ! 
My  forward  grief  hath  form  and  working  might ; 
My  pleasures  like  the  shadows  take  their  flight ; 
My  path  to  bliss  is  tedious,  long  and  steep. 
Twice  happy  thou  Endymion  that  embracest 
The  live-long  night  thy  love  within  thine  arms, 
Where  thou  fond  dream  my  longed  weal  defacest 
Whilst  fleeting  and  uncertain  shades  thou 

placest 
Before  my  eyes  with  false  deluding  charms  ! 

Ah  instant  sweets  which  do  my  heart  revive. 

How  should  I  joy  if  you  were  true  alive  ! 


PHILLIS  31 


XVIII 

As  where  two  raging  venoms  are  united^ 
Which  of  themselves  dissevered  life  would  sever. 
The  sickly  wretch  of  sickness  is  acquited. 
Which  else  should  die,  or  pine  in  torments  ever ; 

So  fire  and  frost,  that  hold  my  heart  in  seizure. 
Restore  those  ruins  which  themselves  have 

wrought. 
Where  if  apart  they  both  had  had  their  pleasure. 
The  earth  long  since  her  fatal  claim  had  caught. 

Thus  two  united  deaths  keep  me  from  dying  ; 
I  bume  in  ice,  and  quake  amidst  the  fire, 
No  hope  midst  these  extremes  or  favour  spying  ; 
Thus  love  makes  me  a  martyr  in  his  ire. 

So  that  both  cold  and  heat  do  rather  feed 

My  ceaseless  pains,  than  any  comfort  breed. 


32  PHILLIS 


XIX 


Thou  tyrannizing  monarch  that  dost  tire 
My  love-sick  heart  through  those  assaulting  eyes. 
That  are  the  lamps  which  lighten  my  desire  ! 
If  nought  but  death  thy  fury  may  suffice. 

Not  for  my  peace,  but  for  thy  pleasure  be  it. 
That  Phillis,  wrathful  Phillis  that  repines  me 
All  grace  but  death,  may  deign  to  come  and  see 

it. 
And  seeing  grieve  at  that  which  she  assigns  me. 

This  only  boon  for  all  my  mortal  bane 
I  crave  and  cry  for  at  thy  mercy  seat : 
That  when  her  wrath  a  faithful  heart  hath  slain. 
And  soul  is  fled,  and  body  reft  of  heat. 

She  might  perceive  how  much  she  might  com- 
mand. 

That  had  my  life  and  death  within  her  liand. 


PHILLIS  33. 


XX 


Some  praise  the  looks,  and  others  praise  the  locks 
Of  their  fair  queens,  in  love  with  curious  words  ; 
Some   laud  the   breast  where   love   his   treasure 

locks. 
All  like  the  eye  that  life  and  love  affords. 

But  none  of  these  frail  beauties  and  unstable 
Shall  make  my  pen  riot  in  pompous  style  ; 
More  gi'eater  gifts  shall  my  grave  muse  enable. 
Whereat  severer  brows  shall  never  smile. 

I  praise  her  honey-sweeter  eloquence, 
WTiich  from  the  fountain  of  true  wisdom  floweth. 
Her  modest  mien  that  matcheth  excellence. 
Her  matchless  faith  which  from  her  virtue  grow- 
eth ; 

And  could  my  style  her  happy  virtues  equal. 

Time  had  no  power  her  glories  to  enthral. 


34>  P  H  I  L  L I S 

EGLOGA    PRIMA    DEMADES 
DAMON 

DEMADES 

Now  scourge  of  winter's  wrack  is  well  nigh  spent, 
And  sun  gins  look  more  longer  on  our  clime. 
And  earth  no  more  to  sorrow  doth  consent. 
Why  been  thy  looks  forlorn  that  view  the  pi-ime  ? 
Unneth  thy  flocks  may  feed  to  see  thee  faint. 
Thou    lost,    they    lean,    and    both    with     woe 
attaint. 
For  shame  !     Cast  off  these  discontented  looks  ; 
For  grief  doth  wait  on  life,  though  never  sought ; 
So  Thenot  wrote  admired  for  pipe  and  books. 
Then  to  the  spring  attemper  thou  thy  thought, 
And  let  advice  rear  up  thy  drooping  mind. 
And  leave  to  weep  thy  woes  unto  the  wind. 

DAMON 

Ah  Demades,  no  wonder  though  I  wail. 
For  even  the  spring  is  winter  unto  me  ! 
Look  as  the  sun  the  earth  doth  then  avail. 
When  by  his  beams  her  bowels  warmed  be  ; 


PHILLIS  35 

Even  so  a  saint  more  sun-bright  in  her  shining 
First  ■wTought  my  weal,  now  hastes  my  winter's 
pining. 

Which  lovely  lamp  withdrawn  from  my  poor  eyes. 
Both  parts  of  earth  and  fire  drowned  up  in  woe 
In  winter  dwell.     My  joy,  my  courage  dies  ; 
My  lambs  with  me  that  do  my  winter  know 
For  pity  sconi  the  spring  that  nigheth  near. 
And  pine  to  see  their  master's  pining  cheer. 

The  root  which  yieldeth  sap  unto  the  tree 
Draws  from  the   earth   the   means  that   make   it 

spring  ; 
And  by  the  sap  the  scions  fostered  be. 
All  from  the  sun  have  comfort  and  increasing 
And  that  fair  eye  that  lights  this  earthly  ball 
Kills  by  depart,  and  nearing  cheereth  all. 

As  root  to  tree,  such  is  my  tender  heart. 
Whose  sap  is  thought,  whose  branches  are  content ; 
And  from  my  soul  they  draw  their  sweet  or  smart. 
And  from  her  eye,  my  soul's  best  life  is  lent  ; 

Which  heavenly  eye  that  lights  both  earth  and 
air. 

Quells  by  depart  and  quickens  by  repair. 


36  P  H  I  L  L I  S 


Give  period  to  the  process  of  thy  plaint. 
Unhappy  Damon,  witty  in  self-grieving ; 
Tend  thou  thy  flocks  ;  let  tyrant  love  attaint 
Those  tender  hearts  that  made   their  love  their 
living. 
And  as  kind  time  keeps  Phillis  from  thy  sight. 
So  let  prevention  banish  fancy  quite. 

Cast  hence  this  idle  fuel  of  desire, 

That  feeds  that   flame   wherem   thy  heart   con- 

sumeth ; 
Let  reason  school  thy  will  which  doth  aspire, 
And  counsel  cool  impatience  that  presumeth  ; 
Drive    hence   vain    thoughts   which    are   fond 

love's  abettors. 
For  he  that  seeks  his  thraldom  merits  fetters. 

The  vain  idea  of  this  deity 
Nursed  at  the  teat  of  thine  imagination. 
Was  bred,  brought  up  by  thine  own  vanity. 
Whose  being  thou  mayst  curse  from  the  creation ; 
And  so  thou  list,  thou  may  as  soon  forget  love. 
As  thou  at  first  didst  fashion  and  beget  love. 


PHILLIS  37 

DAMON 

Peace,  Demades,  peace  shepherd,  do   not  tempt 

me ; 
The  sage-taught  wife   may  speak   thus,  but   not 

practise  ; 
Rather  from  hfe  than  from  my  love  exempt  me. 
My  happy  love  wherein  my  weal  and  wrack  hes  ; 
Where  chilly  age  first  left  love,  and  first   lost 

her. 
There  youth  found  love,  liked  love,  and  love  did 

foster. 

Not  as  ambitious  of  their*  own  decay. 

But  curious  to  equal  your  fore-deeds, 

So  tread  we  now  within  your  wonted  way ; 

We  find  your  fruits  of  judgments  and  their  seeds ; 

We  know  you  loved,  and  loving  learn  that  lore ; 

You  scorn  kind  love,  because  you  can  no  more. 

Though  from  this  pure  refiner  of  the  thought 
The  gleanings  of  your  learnings  have  you  gathered 
Your  lives  had  been  abortive,  base  and  naught. 
Except  by  happy  love  they  had  been  fathered ; 

*  Our  ? 


38  PHILLIS 

Then  still  the  swain,  for  I  will  still  avow  it ; 
They  have  no  wit  nor  worth  that  disallow  it. 

Then  to  renew  the  ruins  of  my  tears 
Be  thou  no  hinderer,  Demades,  I  pray  thee. 
If  my  love-sighs  grow  tedious  in  thine  ears, 
Fly  me,  that  fly  from  joy,  I  list  not  stay  thee. 
Mourn    sheep,  mourn   lambs,  and    DavTion  will 

weep  by  you ; 
And  when  I  sigh,  "  Come  home,  sweet  Phillis," 
cry  you. 

Come    home,   sweet    Phillis,    for    thine    absence 

causeth 
A  flowerless  prime-tide  in  these  drooping  meadows ; 
To  push  his  beauties  forth  each  primrose  pauseth, 
Our  lilies  and  our  roses  like  coy  widows 

Shut  in  their  buds,  their  beauties,  and  bemoan 

them. 
Because  my  Phillis  doth  not  smile  upon  them. 

The  trees  by  my  redoubled  sighs  long  blasted 
Call  for  thy  balm-sweet  breath  and  sunny  eyes, 
To  whom  all  nature's  comforts  are  hand-fasted  ; 
Breathe,  look  on  them,  and  they  to  life  arise  ; 


P  H  I  L  L I S  39 

They  have  new  liveries  with  each  sniile  thou 

lendest. 
And  droop  with  me,  when  thy  fair  brow  thou 

bendest. 

I  woo  thee,  Phillis,  with  more  earnest  weeping 

Than  Niobe  for  her  dead  issue  spent ; 

I    pray   thee,   nymph   who    hast    our    spring   in 
keeping. 

Thou  mistress  of  our  flowers  and  my  content. 
Come  home,  and  glad  our  meads  of  winter  weaiy. 
And  make  thy  woeful  Damon  blithe  and  merry. 

Else  will  I  captive  all  my  hopes  again. 
And  shut  them  up  in  prisons  of  despair. 
And  weep  such  tears  as  shall  destroy  this  plain. 
And  sigh  such  sighs  as  shall  eclipse  the  air. 

And  cry  such  cries  as  love  that  hears  ray  crying 
Shall  faint  and  weep  for  grief  and  fall  a-dying. 

My  little  world  hath  vowed  no  sun  shall  glad  it. 

Except  thy  little  world  her  hght  discover. 

Of  which  heavens  would  grow  proud  if  so  they 

had  it. 
Oh  how  I  fear  lest  absent  Jove  should  love  her  ! 


40  P  H  I  L  L I  S 

I  fear  it,  Phillis,  for  he  never  saw  one 
That  had  more  heaven-sweet  looks  to  hire  and 
awe  one. 

I  swear  to  thee,  all-seeing  sovereign 
Rolling  heaven's  circles  round  about  our  center, 
Except  my  Phillis  safe  return  again, 
No  joy  to  heart,  no  meat  to  mouth  shall  enter. 
All  hope  (but  future  hope  to  be  renowned. 
For  weeping  Phillis)  shall  in  tears  be  drowned. 

DEMADES 

How  large  a  scope  lends  Damon  to  his  moan. 
Wafting  those  treasures  of  his  happy  wit 
In  registering  his  woeful  woe-begone  ! 
Ah  bend  thy  muse  to  matters  far  more  fit ! 
For  time  shall  come  when  Phillis  is  interred. 
That  Damon  shall  confess  that  he  hath  erred. 

When  nature's  riches  shall,  by  time  dissolved. 
Call  thee  to  see  with  more  judicial  eye 
How  Phillis'  beauties  are  to  dust  resolved. 
Thou  then  shalt  ask  thyself  the  reason  why 
Thou  wert  so  fond,  since  Phillis  was  so  frail. 
To  praise  her  gifts  that  should  so  quickly  fail. 


PHILLIS  41 

Have  mercy  on  thyself,  cease  being  idle, 

Let  reason  claim  and  gain  of  will  his  homage ; 

Rein  in  these  brain-sick  thoughts  with  judgment's 
bridle, 

A  short  prevention  helps  a  mighty  domage. 
If  Phillis  love,  love  her,  yet  love  her  so 
That  if  she  fly,  thou  may'st  love's  fire  forego. 

Play  Avith  the  fire,  yet  die  not  in  the  flame  ; 

Show  passions  in  thy  words,  but  not  in  heart  ; 

Lest  when  thou  think  to  bring  thy  thoughts  in 
frame. 

Thou  prove  thyself  a  prisoner  by  thine  art. 
Play  with  these  babes  of  love,  as  apes  with  glasses. 
And  put  no  trust  in  feathers,  wind,  or  lasses. 

DAMON 

Did  not  thine  age  }neld  warrantise,  old  man. 
Impatience  would  enforce  me  to  offend  thee ; 
Me  list  not  now  thy  forward  skill  to  scan. 
Yet  will  I  pray  that  love  may  mend  or  end  thee. 

Spring  flowers,  sea-tides,  earth,  grass,  sky,  stars 
shall  banish. 

Before  the  thoughts  of  love  or  Phillis  vanish. 


42  PHILLIS 

So  get  thee  gone,  and  fold  thy  tender  sheep. 
For  lo,  the  great  automaton  of  day 
In  Isis  stream  his  golden  locks  doth  steep  ; 
Sad  even  her  dusky  mantle  doth  display ; 

Light-flying  fowls,  the  posts  of  night,  disport 
them. 

And  cheerful-looking  vesper  doth  consort  them. 

Come  you,  my  careful  flock,  forego  you  master, 

I'll  fold  you  up  and  after  fall  a-sighing ; 

Words    have    no   worth    my    secret    wounds    to 

plaster ; 
Naught  may  refresh  my  joys  but  Phillis  nighing. 
Farewell,  old  Demades. 

DEMADES 

Damon,  farewell. 
How  'gainst  advice  doth  headlong  youth  rebel ! 


PHILLIS  43 


AN    ELEGY 

Ah  cruel  winds,  why  call  you  hence  away  ? 
Why  make  you  breach  betwixt  my  soul  and  me  ? 
Ye  traitorous  floods,  why  nil  your  floats  delay 
Until  my  latest  moans  discoursed  be  ? 
For  though  ye  salt  sea-gods  withhold  the  rain 
Of  all  your  floats  and  gentle  winds  be  still. 
While  I  have  wept  such  tears  as  might  restrain 
The  rage  of  tides  and  winds  against  their  will. 
Ah  shall  I  love  your  sight,  bright  shining  eyes  ? 
And  must  my  soul  his  life  and  gloiy  leave  ? 
Must  I  forsake  the  bower  where  solace  lives. 
To  trust  to  tickle  fates  that  still  deceive  ? 
Alas,  so  wills  the  wanton  queen  of  change. 
That  each  man  tract  this  labyrinth  of  life 
With  slippery   steps,   now   wronged    by    fortune 

strange. 
Now  drawn  by  counsel  from  the  maze  of  strife  ! 
Ah  joy  !     No  joy  because  so  soon  thou  fleetest. 
Hours,  days,  and  times  inconstant  in  your  being  ! 


44  P  H  I  L  L I  S 

Oh  life  !     No  life,  since  with  such   chance   thou 

meetest  ! 
Oh  eyes !  No  eyes,  since  you  must  lose  your  seeing ! 
Soul,  be  thou  sad,  dissolve  thy  living  powers 
To  ciystal  tears,  and  by  their  pores  express 
The  grief  that  my  distressed  soul  devours  ! 
Clothe  thou  my  body  all  in  heaviness  ; 
My  suns  appeared  fair  smihng  full  of  pleasure, 
But  now  the  vale  of  absence  overclouds  them  ; 
They  fed  my  heart  with  joys  exceeding  measure 
Which  now  shall  die,  since  absence  needs  must 

shroud  them. 
Yea,  die  !    Oh  death,  sweet  death,  vouchsafe  that 

blessing, 
That  I  may  die  the  death  whilst  she  regardeth  ! 
For   sweet  were  death,  and  sweet  were  death's 

oppressing. 
If  she  look  on  who  all  my  life  awardeth. 
Oh  thou  that  art  the  portion  of  my  joy. 
Yet  not  the  portion,  for  thou  art  the  prime  ; 
Suppose  my  griefs,  conceive  the  deep  annoy 
That  wounds  my  soul  upon  this  sorry  time  ! 
Pale  is  my  face,  and  in  my  pale  confesses 
The  pain  I  suffer,  since  I  needs  must  leave  thee. 


P  H  I  L  L  I  S  45 

Red    are   mine   eyes   through  tears    that    them 

oppresses. 
Dulled  are  my  sp'rits  since  fates  do  now  bereave 

thee. 
And   now,    ah   noAV,    my  plaints   are    quite    pre- 
vented ! 
The  winds  are  fair  the  sails  are  hois^d  high. 
The    anchors   weighed,    and    now   quite   discon- 
tented. 
Grief  so  subdues  my  heart  as  it  should  die. 
A  faint  farewell  with  trembling  hand  I  tender. 
And  with  my  tears  my  papers  are  distained. 
Which  closed  up,  my  heart  in  them  I  render. 
To  tell  thee  how  at  parting  I  complained. 
Vouchsafe  his  message  that  doth  bring  farcAvell, 
And  for  my  sake  let  him  ^vith  beauty  dwell. 


46  PHILLIS 


THIRSTS   EGLOGA   SECUNDA 

Muses  help  me,  sorrow  swarmeth. 
Eyes  are  fraught  with  seas  of  languish  ; 
Heavy  hope  my  solace  harmeth. 
Mind's  repast  is  bitter  anguish. 

Eye  of  day  regarded  never 
Certain  trust  in  world  untrusty  ; 
Flattering  hope  beguileth  ever 
Weary,  old,  and  wanton  lusty. 

l^awn  of  day  beholds  enthroned 
Fortune's  darling,  proud  and  dreadless  ; 
Darksome  night  doth  hear  him  moaned, 
Who  before  was  rich  and  needless. 

Rub  the  sphere  of  lines  united, 
Make  a  sudden  void  in  nature  ; 
Force  the  day  to  be  benighted, 
Reave  the  cause  of  time  and  creature  ; 


PHILLIS  47 

Ere  the  world  will  cease  to  vary. 
This  I  weep  for,  this  I  soitow. 
Muses,  if  you  please  to  tarry. 
Further  helps  I  mean  to  borrow. 

Courted  once  by  fortune's  favour, 
Compassed  now  with  envy's  curses. 
All  my  thoughts  of  sorrow  savour, 
Hopes  run  fleeting  like  the  sources. 

Ay  me  !     Wanton  scorn  hath  maimed 
All  the  joy  my  heart  enjoyed  ; 
Thoughts  their  thinking  have  disclaimed. 
Hate  my  hopes  hath  quite  annoyed. 

Scant  regard  my  weal  hath  scanted. 
Looking  coy  hath  forced  my  lowering  ; 
Nothing  liked  where  nothing  wanted 
Weds  mine  eyes  to  ceaseless  showering. 

Former  love  was  once  admired. 

Present  favour  is  estranged. 

Loath  the  pleasure  long  desired  ; 

Thus  both  men  and  thoughts  are  changed. 


48  P  H  I  L  L I  S 

Lovely  swain  with  lucky  guiding, 
Once  (but  now  no  more  so  friended) 
Thou  my  flocks  hast  had  in  minding. 
From  the  morn  till  day  was  ended. 

Drink  and  fodder,  food  and  folding. 
Had  my  lambs  and  ewes  together  ; 
I  with  them  was  still  beholding, 
Both  in  warmth  and  winter  weather. 

Now  they  languish  since  refused, 
Ewes  and  lambs  are  pained  with  pining  ; 
I  with  ewes  and  lambs  confused. 
All  unto  our  deaths  declining. 

Silence,  leave  thy  cave  obscured  ; 
Deign  a  doleful  swain  to  tender  ; 
Though  disdains  I  have  endured. 
Yet  I  am  no  deep  offender. 

Phillis'  son  can  with  his  finger 
Hide  his  scar,  it  is  so  little  ; 
Little  sin  a  day  to  linger. 
Wise  men  wander  in  a  tittle. 


PHILLIS  49 

Thriftless  yet  my  swain  have  turned. 
Though  my  sun  he  never  showeth  : 
Though  I  weep,  I  am  not  mourned  ; 
Though  I  wantj  no  pity  groweth. 

Yet  for  pity  love  my  muses  ; 
Gentle  silence  be  their  cover  ; 
They  must  leave  their  wonted  uses. 
Since  I  leave  to  be  a  lover. 

They  shall  live  with  thee  inclosed, 
I  will  loathe  my  pen  and  paper 
Art  shall  never  be  supposed. 
Sloth  shall  quench  the  watching  taper. 

Kiss  them,  silence,  kiss  them  kindly 
Though  I  leave  them,  yet  I  love  them  ; 
Though  my  wit  have  led  them  blindly. 
Yet  my  swain  did  once  approve  them. 

I  will  travel  soils  removed. 
Night  and  moiTow  never  merry  ; 
Thou  shalt  harbour  that  I  loved, 
I  will  love  that  makes  me  weary. 


50  P  H  I  L  L I S 

If  perchance  the  sbf   «  estrayeth. 
In  thywalks  and  shailes  unhaunted. 
Tell  the  teen  my  ht^art  betrayeth. 
How  neglect  my  joys   .ath  daunted. 


PHILLIS  51 


XXI 

Ye  heralds  of  my  heart,  mine  ardent  groans, 
O  tears  which  gladly  would  burst  out  to  brooks, 
Oh  spent  on  fruitless  sand  my  surging  moans, 
Oh  thoughts  enthralled  unto  care-boding  looks  ! 

Ah  just  laments  of  my  unjust  distress. 
Ah  fond  desires  Avhom  reason  could  not  guide  ! 
Oh  hopes  of  love  that  intimate  redress. 
Yet  prove  the  load-stars  unto  bad  betide  ! 

When  will  you  cease  ?      Or  shall  pain  never- 
ceasing. 
Seize  on  my  heart  ?     Oh  mollify  your  rage. 
Lest  your  assaults  with  over-swift  increasing. 
Procure  ray  death,  or  call  on  timeless  age. 

What   if  they  do  ?     They  shall   but  feed  the 
fire. 

Which  I  have  kindled  by  my  fond  desire. 


52  PHILLIS 


XXII 

Fair  art  thou,  Phillis,  ay,  so  fair,  sweet  maid. 
As  nor  the  sun,  nor  I  have  seen  more  fair  ; 
For  in  thy  cheeks  sweet  roses  are  embayed. 
And  gold  more  pure  than  gold  doth  gild  thy  hair. 
Sweet   bees   have   hived   their  honey   on   thy 
tongue. 
And  Hebe  spiced  her  nectar  with  thy  breath  ; 
About  thy  neck  do  all  the  graces  throng. 
And  lay  such  baits  as  might  entangle  death. 
In   such   a  breast   what   heart  would   not   be 
thrall  ? 
From  such  sweet  arms  who  would  not  wish  em- 
braces ? 
At  thy  fair  hands  who  wondei-s  not  at  all, 
Wonder  itself  through  ignorance  embases  ? 

Yet  natheless  though  wondrous  gifts  you  call 
these. 
My  faith  is  far  more  wonderful  than  all  these. 


PHILLIS  53 


Burst,  burst,  poor  heart !     Thou  hast  no  longer 
hope; 
Captive  mine  eyes  unto  eternal  sleep  ; 
Let  all  my  senses  have  no  further  scope  ; 
Let  death  be  lord  of  me  and  all  my  sheep  ! 
For  Phillis  hath  betrothed  fierce  disdain. 
That  makes  his  mortal  mansion  in  her  heart ; 
And   though   my  tongue  have  long  time  taken 

pain 
To  sue  divorce  and  wed  her  to  desert. 

She  will   not   yield,   my   words   can    have   no 
power  ; 
She  scorns  my  faith,  she  laughs  at  my  sad  lays. 
She  fills  my  soid  with  never  ceasing  sour. 
Who  filled  the  world  with  volumes  of  her  praise. 
In  such  extremes   what  ^\Tetch    can  cease  to 

crave 
His    peace    from   death,   who   can   no   mercy 
have  ! 


54  PHILLIS 


XXIV 

No  glory  makes  me  glorious  or  glad. 
Nor  pleasure  ntiay  to  pleasure  me  dispose. 
No  comfort  can  revive  my  senses  sad. 
Nor  hope  enfranchise  me  with  one  I'epose. 

Nor  in  her  absence  taste  I  one  delight, 
Nor  in  her  presence  am  I  well  content ; 
Was  never  time  gave  term  to  my  despite, 
Nor  joy  that  dried  the  tears  of  my  lament. 

Nor  hold  I  hope  of  weal  in  memory. 
Nor  have  I  thought  to  change  my  restless  grief. 
Nor  doth  my  conquest  yield  me  sovereignty, 
Nor  hope  i-epose,  nor  confidence  rehef. 

For  why  ?     She  sorts  her  frowns  and  favours  so, 

As  when  I  gain  or  lose  I  cannot  know. 


PHIL  LIS  55 


I  WAGE  the  combat  \v ! .  i  i  two  mighty  foes, 
Which  are  more  strong  than  I  ten  thousand  fold  ; 
The  one  is  when  thy  pleasure  I  do  lose. 
The  other,  when  thy  })     >i>n  I  behold. 

In  seeing  thee  a  swarni  (jf  loves  confound  me, 
And  cause  my  death  in  sj)ice  of  my  resist. 
And  if  I  see  thee  not,  I'l  >   want  doth  wound  me. 
For  in  thy  sight  my  couitort  doth  consist. 

The  one  in  me  continual  care  createth, 
The  other  doth  occasion  my  desire  ; 
The  one  the  edge  of  all  iny  joy  rebateth. 
The  other  makes  me  a  phenix  in  love's  fire. 

So  that  I  grieve  wheji  1  enjoy  your  presence. 

And  die  for  grief  by  itason  of  your  absence. 


56  P  H  I  L  L I S 


XXVI 

I'll  teach  thee,  lovely  Phillis,  what  love  is. 
It  is  a  vision  seeming  such  as  thou, 
That  flies  as  fast  as  it  assaults  mine  eyes ; 
It  is  affection  that  doth  reason  miss  ; 

It  is  a  shape  of  pleasure  like  to  you. 
Which  meets  the  eye,  and  seen  on  sudden  dies  ; 
It  is  a  doubled  grief,  a  spark  of  pleasure 
Begot  by  vain  desire.     And  this  is  love. 

Whom  in  our  youth  we  count  our  chiefest  trea- 
sure. 
In  age  for  want  of  power  we  do  reprove. 

Yea,  such  a  power  is  love,  whose  loss  is  pain. 

And  having  got  him  we  repent  our  gam. 


PHILLIS  57 


Fair  eyes,  whilst  fearful  I  your  fair  admire, 
By  unexpressed  sweetness  that  I  gain. 
My  memory  of  sorrow  doth  expire. 
And  falcon-like  I  tower  joy's  heavens  amain. 

But  when  your  suns  in  oceans  of  their  glory 
Shut  up  their  day-bright  shine,  I  die  for  thought ; 
So  pass  my  joys  as  doth  a  new-played  story, 
And  one  poor  sigh  breathes  all  delight  to  naught. 

So  to  myself  I  live  not,  but  for  you  ; 
For  you  I  live,  and  you  I  love,  but  none  else. 
Oh  then,  fair  eyes,  whose  hght  I  live  to  view. 
Or  poor  forlorn  despised  to  live  alone  else. 

Look  sweet,  since  from  the  pith  of  contempla- 
tion 

Love  gathereth  life,  and  living,  breedeth  passion. 


58  PHILLIS 


XXVIII 

Not    causeless    were    you    christened,   gentle 
flowers. 
The  one  of  faith,  the  other  fancy's  pride  ; 
For  she  who  guides  both  faith  and  fancy's  power. 
In  your  fair  colors  wraps  her  ivory  side. 

As  one  of  you  hath  whiteness  without  stain. 
So  spotless  is  my  love  and  never  tainted  ; 
And  as  the  other  shadoweth  faith  again. 
Such  is  my  lass,  with  no  fond  change  acquainted. 

And  as  nor  tyrant  sun  nor  winter  weather 
May  ever  change  sweet  amaranthus'  hue. 
So  she  though  love  and  fortune  join  together. 
Will  never  leave  to  be  both  fair  and  true. 

And  should  I  leave  thee  then,  thou  pretty  elf  ? 

Nay,  first  let  Damon  quite  forget  himself. 


PHILLIS  59 


XXIX 

I  FEEL  myself  endangered  beyond  reason. 
My  death  already  'twixt  the  cup  and  lip. 
Because  my  pi-oud  desh-e  through  cursed  treason. 
Would  make  my  hopes  mount  heaven,  which  can- 
not skip  ; 

My  fancy  still  requireth  at  my  hands 
Such  things  as  are  not,  cannot,  may  not  be, 
And  my  desire  although  my  power  withstands. 
Will  give  me  wings, who  never  yet  could  flee. 

What  then  remains  except  my  maimed  soul 
Extort  compassion  from  love-flying  age. 
Or  if  naught  else  their  fury  may  control. 
To  call  on  death  that  quells  affection's  rage ; 

Which   death   shall  dwell  with  me  and  never 

fly. 

Since  vain  desire  seeks  that  hope  doth  deny. 


60  PHILLIS 


I  DO  compare  unto  thy  youthly  clear, 
Which  always  bides  within  thy  flow'ring  prime. 
The  month  of  April,  that  bedews  our  clime 
With  pleasant  flowers,  when  as  his  showers  appear. 

Before  thy  face  shall  fly  false  cruelty, 
Before  his  face  the  doly  season  fleets ; 
Mild  been  his  looks,  thine  eyes  are  full  of  sweets  ; 
Firm  is  his  course,  firm  is  thy  loyalty. 

He    paints    the    fields    through    liquid    crystal 
showers. 
Thou    paint'st    my    verse    with    Pallas,  learned 

flowers ; 
With  Zephirus'  sweet  breath  he  fills  the  plains. 
And   thou    my   heart    with    weeping    sighs    dost 
wring ; 
His  brows  are   dewed   with  morning's   crystal 

spring. 
Thou  mak'st  my  eyes  with  tears   bemoan  my 
pains. 


PHILLIS  61 


Devoid  of  reason,  thrall  to  foolish  ire, 
I  walk  and  chase  a  savage  fairy  still,  « 
Now  near  the   flood,  straight   on   the   mounting 

hill. 
Now  midst  the  woods  of  youth,  and  vain  desire. 

For  leash  I  bear  a  cord  of  careful  grief ; 
For  brach  I  lead  an  over-fox-ward  mind  ; 
My    hounds    are    thoughts,  and    rage   despairing 

blind. 
Pain,  cruelty,  and  care  without  relief. 

But  they  perceiving  that  my  swift  pursuit 
My  flying  fairy  cannot  overtake. 
With  open  mouths  their  prey  on  me  do  make. 
Like  hungry  hounds  that  lately  lost  their  suit. 

And  full  of  fury  on  their  master  feed. 

To  hasten  on  my  hapless  death  with  speed. 


62  P  H  I  L  L I  S 


XXXII 

A  THOUSAND  times  to  think  and  think  the  same, 
To  two  fair  eyes  to  show  a  naked  heart. 
Great  thirst  with  bitter  liquor  to  restrain, 
To  take  repast  of  care  and  crooked  smart ; 

To  sigh  full  oft  without  relent  of  ire. 
To  die  for  grief  and  yet  conceal  the  tale. 
To  others'  will  to  fashion  my  desire, 
To  pine  in  looks  disguised  through  pensive-pale  ; 

A  short  dispite,  a  faith  unfeigned  true. 
To  love  my  foe,  and  set  my  life  at  naught. 
With  heedless  eyes  mine  endless  harms  to  view, 
A  will  to  speak,  a  fear  to  tell  the  thought ; 

To  hope  for  all,  yet  for  despair  to  die. 

Is  of  my  life  the  certain  destiny, 


PHILLIS  63 


XXXIII 

When  first  sweet  Phillis,  whom  I  must  adore, 
Gan  with  her  beauties  bless  our  wond'ring  sky. 
The  son  of  Rhea,  from  their  fatal  store 
Made  all  the  gods  to  grace  her  majesty. 

Apollo  first  his  golden  rays  among. 
Did  form  the  beauty  of  her  bounteous  eyes  ; 
He  graced  her  with  his  sweet  melodious  song. 
And  made  her  subject  of  his  poesies. 

The  warrior  Mars  bequeathed  her  fierce  disdain, 
Venus  her  smile,  and  Phcebe  all  her  fair. 
Python  his  voice,  and  Ceres  all  her  grain. 
The  mom  her  locks  and  fingers  did  repair. 

Young  Love,  his   bow,   and   Thetis   gave   her 
feet ; 

Clio  her  praise,  Pallas  her  science  sweet. 


64  P  H I L  L I S 


XXXIV 

I  WOULD  in  rich  and  golden-coloured  rain. 
With  tempting  showers  in  pleasant  sort  descend 
Into  fair  Phillis'  lap^  my  lovely  friend. 
When  sleep  her  sense  with  slumber  doth  restrain. 

I  would  be  changed  to  a  milk-white  bull, 
When    midst    the    gladsome    fields    she   should 

appear. 
By  pleasant  fineness  to  surprise  my  dear, 
Whilst  from  their  stalks,  she  pleasant  flowers  did 
pull. 

I  were  content  to  weary  out  my  pain. 
To  be  Narsissus  so  she  were  a  spring. 
To  drown  in  her  those  woes  my  heart  do  wring. 
And  more ;  I  wish  transformed  to  remain, 

That  whilst  I  thus  in  pleasure's  lap  did  lie, 

I  might  refresh  desire,  which  else  would  die 


P  H  I L  L I  S  (),-> 


I  HOPE  and  fear,  I  jjray  and  hold  my  peace 
Now  freeze  my  thoughts   and    straight    they  i'vy 

again, 
1  now  admire  and  straight  my  wonders  cease, 
I  loose  my  bonds  and  yet  myself  restrain  ; 

This  likes  me  most  that  leaves  me  discontent. 
My  courage  serves  and  yet  my  heart  doth  fail. 
My  will  doth  climb  whereas  my  hopes  are  spent, 
I  laugh  at  love,  yet  wlien  he  comes  I  quail  ; 

The  more  I  strive,  the  duller  bide  I  still. 
I  would  be  thralled,  and  yet  I  freedom  love, 
I  would  redress,  yet  hourly  feed  mine  ill, 
I  would  repine,  and  dare  not  once  reprove  ; 

And  for  my  love  I  am  bereft  of  power, 

And  strengthless  strive  my  weakness  to  devour. 


PHILLIS 


XXXVI 

If  so  I  seek  the  shades,  I  presently  do  see 
The  god  of  love  forsakes  his  bow  and  sit  me  by  ; 
If  that  I  think  to  write,  his  Muses  pliant  be 
If  so  I  plain  my  grief,  the  wanton  boy  will  cry. 
If   I  lament   his    pride,  he    doth    increase    my 
pain  ; 
If  tears  my  cheeks  attaint,  his  cheeks  are  moist 

with  moan ; 
If  I  disclose  the  wounds  the  which  my  heart  hath 

slain. 
He  takes  his  fascia  oif,  and  wipes  them  dry  anon. 
If  so  I  walk    the    woods,    the   woods   are   his 
delight ; 
If  I  myself  torment,  he  bathes  him  in  my  blood  ; 
He  will  my  soldier  be  if  once  I  wend  to  fight. 
If  seas   delight,  he   steers   my  bark   amidst   the 
hoodx 
In  brief,  the  cruel  god  doth  never  from  me  go. 
But   makes   my  lasting  love    eternal  with    my 
woe. 


PHILLIS  67 

XXXVII 

These  fierce  incessant  waves  that  stream  along  my 

face. 
Which  show  the  certain  proof  of  my  ne'er-ceasing 

pains. 
Fair  Philhs,  are  no  tears  that  trickle  from  my  brains  ; 
For  why  ?     Such  streams  of  ruth  within  me  find 

no  place. 
These  floods   that  wet   my  cheeks   are  gathered 

from  thy  grace 
And  thy  perfections,  and  from  hundred  thousand 

flowers 
Which  from  thy  beauties  spring  ;  whereto  I  medley 

showers 
Of  rose  and  lilies  too,  the  colours  of  thy  face. 
My  love  doth  serve  for  fire,  my  heart  the  furnace  is. 
The  aperries  of  my  sighs  augment  the  burning  flame, 
The  limbec  is  mine  eye  that  doth  distil  the  same ; 
And  by  how  much  my  fire  is  violent  and  sly, 
By  so  much  doth  it  cause  the  waters  mount  on  high, 
That  shower  from  out  mine  eyes,  for  to  assuage 

my  miss. 


«8  PHILLIS 


XXXVHI 

Who  lives  enthralled  to  Cupid  and  his  flame. 
From  day  to  day  is  changed  in  sundry  sort  ; 
The  proof  whereof  myself  may  well  report. 
Who  oft  transformed  by  him  may  teach  the  same. 
I  first  was  turned  into  a  wounded  hart. 
That  bare  the  bloody  arrow  in  my  side  ; 
Then  to  a  swan  that  midst  the  waters  glide. 
With  piteous  voice  presaged  my  deadly  smart ; 
Eftsoons  I  waxed  a  faint  and  fading  flower'; 
Then  was  I  made  a  fountain  sudden  dry. 
Distilling  all  my  tears  from  troubled  eye  ; 
Now  am  I  salamander  by  his  poAver, 

Living  in  flames,  but  hope  ere  long  to  be 
A  voice,  to  talk  my  mistress'  majesty. 


P  H  I  L  L I  S  (i9 


My  matchless  mistress^  whose  delicious  eyes 
Have  power  to  perfect  nature's  privy  wants. 
Even  when  the  sun  in  greatest  pomp  did  rise. 
With  pretty  tread  did  press  the  tender  plants. 

Each  stalk  whilst  forth  she   stalks,  to   kiss  her 
feet 

Is  proud  with  pomp,  and  prodigal  of  sweet. 
Her  fingers  fair  in  favouring  every  flower 
That  wooed  their  ivory  for  a  wished  touch. 
By  chance — sweet  chance  ! — upon  a  blessed  hour 
Did  pluck    the    flower  where  Love   himself  did 
couch. 

Where  Love  did   couch   by    summer   toil   su])- 
pressed. 

And  sought  his  sleeps  within  so  sweet  a  nest. 
The  virgin's  hand  that  held  the  wanton  thrall. 
Imprisoned  him  within  the  roseate  leaves ; 
And  twixt  her  teats,  with  favour  did  install 
The  lovely  rose,  where  Love  his  rest  receives. 

The  lad  that  felt  the  soft  and  sweet  so  nigh, 

Drowned  in  delights,  disdains  his  liberty  ; 


70  P  H I  L  L I S 

And  said,  let  Venus  seek  another  son, 
For  here  my  only  matchless  mother  is ; 
From  whose  fair  orient  orbs  the  drink  doth  run, 
That  deifies  my  state  with  greater  bliss. 

This  said,   he   sucked,    my   mistress    blushing 
smiled, 

Since  Love  was  both  her  prisoner  and  her  child. 


PHILLIS  Tl 


AN    ODE 


Now  I  find  thy  looks  were  feigned. 
Quickly  lost,  and  quickly  gained  ; 
Soft  thy  skin,  like  wool  of  wethers. 
Heart  unstable,  light  as  feathers. 
Tongue  untrusty,  subtile-sighted. 
Wanton  will,  with  change  delighted. 
Siren  pleasant,  foe  to  reason, 
Cupid  plague  thee  for  this  treason  ! 

Of  thine  eyes,  I  made  my  mirror. 
From  thy  beauty  came  mine  error. 
All  thy  words  I  counted  witty. 
All  thy  smiles  I  deemed  pity. 
Thy  false  tears  that  me  aggrieved. 
First  of  all  my  trust  deceived. 
Siren  pleasant,  foe  to  reason, 
Cupid  plague  thee  for  this  treason  ! 

Feigned  acceptance  when  I  ask^d. 
Lovely  words  with  cunning  masked. 


72  PHILLIS 

Holy  vows  but  heart  unholy  ; 
Wretched  man,  my  trust  was  folly  ! 
Lily  white  and  pretty  winking. 
Solemn  vows,  but  sorry  thinking. 
Siren  pleasant,  foe  to  reason, 
Cupid  plague  thee  for  this  treason  ! 

Now  I  see,  O  seemly  cruel, 

Others  warm  them  at  my  fuel  ! 

Wit  shall  guide  me  in  this  durance. 

Since  in  love  is  no  assurance. 

Change  thy  pasture,  take  thy  pleasure  ; 

Beauty  is  a  fading  treasure. 

Siren  pleasant,  foe  to  reason, 

Cupid  plague  thee  for  this  treason  ! 

Prime  youth  lusts  not  age  still  follow. 
And  make  white  these  tresses  yellow  ; 
Wrinkled  face  for  looks  delightful 
Shall  acquaint  the  dame  despightful ; 
And  when  time  shall  eat  thy  glory. 
Then  too  late  thou  wilt  be  sorry. 
Siren  pleasant,  foe  to  reason, 
Cupid  plague  thee  for  thy  treason  ! 


^ 


PHILLIS  7M 


XL 

Resembling  none,  and  none  so  poor  as  1, 
Poor  to  the  world,  and  poor  in  each  esteem. 
Whose  first-bom  loves  at  first  obscured  did  die. 
And  bred  no  fame  but  flame  of  base  misdeem, 

Under  the  ensign  of  whose  tired  pen, 
Love's    legions    forth  have    masked,    by    others 

masked ; 
Think  how  I  live  wronged  by  ill-tongued  men. 
Not  master  of  myself,  to  all  wrongs  tasked  ! 

Oh  thou  that  canst,  and  she  that  may  do   all 
things, 
Support  these  languishing  conceits  that  perish  ! 
Look  on  their  growth  ;  perhaps  these  silly  small 

things 
May  win  this  wordly  palm,  so  you  do  cherish. 
Homer   hath  vowed,  and   I   with   him  do  vow 

this. 
He  will  and  shall  revive,  if  you  allow  this. 


LICIA 

OR 

POEMS  OF  LOVE  IN  HONOR  OF 
THE  ADMIRABLE  AND  SINGULAR 
VIRTUES  OF  HIS  LADY,  TO  THE 
IMITATION  OF  THE  BEST  LATIN 
POETS   AND   OTHERS 

BY 

GILES   FLETCHER,   LL.D. 


GILES  FLETCHER,  LL.D. 

Giles  Fletcher,  author  of  Licia,  was  one  of  that 
distinguished  family  that  inchided  Richard 
Fletcher,  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  his  son 
John  Fletcher,  the  dramatist.  The  two  sons  of 
Dr.  Giles  Fletcher  were  also  men  of  marked 
poetic  ability  :  Phineas,  the  author  of  that  extra- 
ordinary allegorical  poem.  The  Purple  hi  and  ;  and 
Giles,  of  Christ's  Victory  and  Triumph.  There  was 
a  strong  family  feeUng  in  this  circle  ;  Phineas  and 
Giles  pay  compliments  to  each  other  in  their  verse 
and  show  great  reverence  and  tenderness  toward 
the  memory  of  the  poetic  powers  of  their  father. 
But  Giles  Fletcher  the  elder  was  not  thought  of 
in  his  own  time  as  a  poet.  Educated  at  Eton 
and  Trinity,  Cambridge,  where  he  was  made  LL.D, 
in  1581,  a  member  of  Parliament  in  '85,  employed 


78  L I C I A 

in  many  public  services  at  home  and  abroad  during 
a  career  that  lasted  until  I6II,  in  which  year  Dr. 
Fletcher  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-two,  he  was 
known  as  a  man  of  action,  a  man  for  public  re- 
sponsibility, rather  than  as  the  retired  scholar 
or  riming  courtier.  Most  important  among  the 
foreign  embassages  undertaken  by  Fletcher  was 
the  one  to  Russia.  The  results  were  of  great  im- 
port to  England,  commercially  and  otherwise,  but 
the  book  he  wrote  on  his  return  was,  for  political 
reasons,  suppressed. 

It  happened  that  the  years  of  enforced  idleness 
that  followed  the  suppression  of  this  book  came  in 
the  time  when  the  young  sonneteers  at  London 
were  all  busy.  He  returned  from  his  embassage  in 
'89 ;  the  book  was  suppressed  in  '91.  Licia  was  pub- 
lished in  '93.  The  writing  of  Licia  was  "  rather  an 
effect  than  a  cause  of  idleness  ; "  he  did  it  "  only  to 
try  liis  humor,"  he  says  apologetically  in  the  dedi- 
catory addresses.  "  Whereas  my  thoughts  and 
some  reasons  drew  me  rather  to  have  dealt  in 
causes  of  greater  weight,  yet  the  present  jar  of 
this  disagreeing  age  drives  me  into  a  fit  so  melan- 
choly, as  I  had  only  leisui-e  to  grow  passionate.' 


LI  CI  A  79 

In  case  wise  heads  should  think  him  to  be 
treating  "  an  idle  subject  and  so  frivolous,"  or 
that  it  has  been  "  vainly  handled  and  so  odious," 
he  sets  forth  the  nobility  of  his  view.  "How- 
soever, Love  in  this  age  hath  behaved  himself 
in  that  loose  manner  as  it  is  counted  a  dis- 
grace to  give  him  but  a  kind  look,  yet  I  take  the 
passion  in  itself  to  be  of  that  honor  and  credit, 
as  it  is  a  perfect  resemblance  of  the  greatest 
happiness,  and  rightly  valued  at  his  just  price  (in 
a  mind  that  is  sincerely  and  truly  amorous),  an 
affection  of  greatest  virtue  and  able  of  himself  to 
eternise  the  meanest  vassal."  "  For  Love,"  he 
declares,  "  is  a  goddess  (pardon  me  though  I  speak 
like  a  poet)  not  respecting  the  contentment  of 
him  that  loves,  but  the  virtues  of  the  beloved  ; 
satisfied  with  wondering,  fed  Avith  admiration ; 
respecting  nothing  but  his  lady's  worthiness ;  made 
as  happy  by  love  as  by  all  favors;  chaste  by  honor; 
far  from  violence ;  respecting  but  one,  and  that 
one  in  such  kindness,  honesty,  truth,  constancy, 
and  honor,  as  were  all  the  world  offered  to  make 
a  change,  yet  the  boot  were  too  small  and  therefore 
bootless.     This  is  love,  and  far  more   than   this. 


80  L I  C  I  A 

which  I  know  a  vulgar  head,  a  base  mind,  an 
ordinary  conceit,  a  common  person  will  not  nor 
cannot  have.  Thus  do  I  commend  that  love 
wherewith  in  these  poems  I  have  honoured  the 
worthy  Licia." 

The  sonnet-cycle  is  inscribed  "To  the  worthie 
kinde  wise  and  virtuous  ladie,  the  Ladle  Molli- 
neux ;  wife  to  the  right  worshipful  Sir  Richard 
Mollineux  Knight."  Nothing  is  known  of  this 
lady,  except  that  her  family  may  possibly  have 
been  very  distantly  connected  with  that  of 
Fletcher.  What  the  poet's  feeling  was  towards 
his  patroness  he  defines  sufficiently.  "  Now 
in  that  I  have  written  love  sonnets,  if  any 
man  measure  my  affection  by  my  style,  let  him  say 
I  am  in  love.  .  .  .  Yet  take  this  by  the  way ; 
though  I  am  so  liberal  to  grant  thus  much,  a  man 
may  write  of  love  and  not  be  in  love,  as  well  as  of 
husbandry  and  not  go  to  the  plough,  or  of  witches 
and  be  none,  or  of  holiness  and  be  flat  profane." 

What  "shadowings"  the  poet  may  intend  he 
refuses  to  confide  to  us.  "  If  thou  muse  what  my 
Licia  is,  take  her  to  be  some  Diana,  at  the  least 
chaste ;   or  some  Minerva ;   no  Venus,  fairer  far. 


LI  CI  A  81 

It  may  be  she  is  Learning's  image,  or  some 
heavenly  wonder,  which  the  precisest  may  not 
dishke  :  perhaps  under  that  name  I  have  shadowed 
Discipline.  It  may  be  I  mean  that  kind  courtesy 
which  I  found  at  the  patroness  of  these  poems. 
It  may  be  some  college ;  it  may  be  my  conceit, 
and  portend  nothing."  It  is  evident  then  that  the 
patroness  herself  is  not  the  real  person  behind  the 
poetic  title.  He  therefore  dedicates  Licia  to 
Lady  Molineux,  not  because  the  sonnets  them- 
selves are  addressed  to  her,  but  because  he  has 
received  "  favours  undeserved  "  at  her  hands  and 
those  of  "  wise  Sir  Richard  "  for  which  he  "  wants 
means  to  make  recompence,"  and  therefore  in  the 
meantime  he  begs  her  to  accej:)t  this.  "  If  thou 
like  it,"  he  says  to  the  reader,  "  take  it,  and  thank 
the  worthy  Lady  Mollineux,  for  whose  sake  thou 
hast  it ;  worthy,  indeed,  and  so  not  only  reputed 
by  me  in  private  affection  of  thankfulness  but  so 
equally  to  be  esteemed  by  all  that  know  her.  For 
if  I  had  not  received  of  her  .  .  .  those  unrequit- 
able favours,  I  had  not  thus  idly  toyed." 

A  warm  admirer  of  Fletcher  has  expressed  hi:? 
opinion  that  Licia  "  sparkles  with  brilliants  of  the 


82  L  I  C I  A 

fii'st  water."  A  more  temperate  judgment  is  that 
of  another,  who  says  that  he  "  took  part  without 
discredit  in  the  choir  of  singers  who  were  men  of 
action  too."  Licia  is  what  a  typical  sonnet-cycle 
ought  to  be,  a  delicate  and  almost  intangible 
thread  of  story  on  which  are  strung  the  separate 
sonnet-pearls.  In  this  case  the  jewels  have  a 
particular  finish.  Fletcher  has  adopted  the  idea 
of  a  series  of  quatrains,  often  extending  the 
number  to  four,  and  a  concluding  couplet,  which 
he  seems  fond  of  utilising  to  give  an  epigram- 
matic finish  to  the  ingenious  incident  he  so  often 
makes  the  subject  of  the  somiet.  He  is  fully  in 
the  spirit  of  the  Italian  mode,  however,  acknow- 
ledging in  his  title  page  his  indebtedness  to  poets 
of  other  nationalities  than  his  own. 


TO    Lie  I A 

THE  WISE,  KIND,  VIRTUOUS,  AND  FAIR 

Bright  matchless  star,  the  honour  of  the  sky. 
From  whose  clear  shme  heaven's  vault  hath  all  his 

light, 
I  send  these  poems  to  your  gi-aceful  eye  ; 
Do  you  but  take  them,  and  they  have  their  right. 
I  build  besides  a  temple  to  your  name, 
Wherein  my  thoughts  shall  daily  sing  your 

praise ; 
And  will  erect  an  altar  for  the  same. 
Which  shall  your  virtues  and  your  honour  raise. 
But  heaven  the  temple  of  your  honour  is, 
W^hose  brasen  tops  your  Avorthy  self  made  proud  ; 
The  ground  an  altar,  base  for  such  a  bliss 
With  pity  torn,  because  I  sighed  so  loud. 
And  since  my  skill  no  worship  can  impart. 
Make  you  an  incense  of  my  lo\'ing  heart. 


84  L I  C  I  A 

Sad  all  alone  not  long  I  musing  sat, 

But  that  my  thoughts  compelled  me  to  aspire, 

A  laurel  garland  in  my  hand  I  gat ; 

So  the  Muses  I  approached  the  nigher. 

My  suite  was  this,  a  poet  to  become. 

To  drink  with  them,  and  from  the  heavens    be 

fed. 
Phoebus  denied,  and  sware  there  was  no  room. 
Such  to  be  poets  as  fond  fancy  led. 
With  that  I  mourned  and  sat  me  down  to  weep. 
Venus  she  smiled,  and  smiling  to  me  said, 
"  Come,  drink  with    me,   and   sit  thee  still  and 

sleep." 
This  voice  I  heard  ;  and  Venus  I  obeyed. 
That  poison  sweet  hath  done  me  all  this  wrong. 
For  now  of  love  must  needs  be  all  my  song. 


L  I  C  I  A  85 


Weary  was  love  and  sought  to  take  his  rest. 
He  made  his  choice,  upon  a  virgin's  hip  ; 
And  slyly  crept  from  thence  unto  her  breast. 
Where  still  he  meant  to  sport  him  in  his  hap ; 
The  virgin  frowned  like  Phoebus  in  a  cloud  ; 
"  Go  pack,  sir  boy,  here  is  no  rooni  for  such. 
My  breast  no  wanton  foolish  boy  must  shroud." 
This  said,  my  love  did  give  the  wag  a  touch  ; 
Then  as  the  foot  that  treads  the  stinging  snake 
Hastes  to  be  gone,  for  fear  what  may  ensue. 
So  love  my  love  was  forced  for  to  forsake. 
And  for  more  speed,  without  his  arrows  flew. 
"  Pardon,"  he  said,  "  For  why  ?     You  seemed 

to  me 
My  mother  Venus  in  her  pride  to  be." 


S6  LICIA 


The  heavens  beheld  the  beauty  of  my  queen. 
And  all  amazed,  to  wonder  thus  began  : 
"  Why  dotes  not  Jove,  as  erst  we  all  have  seen, 
And  shapes  himself  like  to  a  seemly  man  ? 
Mean  are  the  matches  which  he  sought  before. 
Like  bloomless  buds,  too  base  to  make  compare. 
And  she  alone  hath  treasured  beauty's  store. 
In  whom  all  gifts  and  princely  graces  are." 
Cupid  replied  :  "  I  posted  with  the  sun 
To  view  the  maids  that  lived  in  those  days. 
And  none  there  was  that  might  not  well  be  won. 
But  she,  most  hard,  most  cold,  made  of  delays. 

Heavens  were    deceived,    and  wrong  they  do 
esteem, 

She  hath  no  heat,  although  she  living  seem. 


LI  CI  A  87 


Love  and  my  love  did  range  the  forest  wild. 
Mounted  alike,  upon  swift  coursers  both. 
Love  her  encountered,  though  he  was  a  child. 
"  Let's    strive,"    saith   he,   whereat  my   love  was 

wroth. 
And  scorned  the  boy,  and  checked  him  with  a 

smile. 
"  I  mounted  am,  and  armed  with  my  spear  ; 
Thou  art  too  weak,  thyself  do  not  beguile  ; 
I  could  thee  conquer  if  I  naked  were." 
With  this  love  wept,  and  then  my  love  replied  : 
"  Kiss  me,  sweet  boy,  so  weep  my  boy  no  more." 
Thus  did  my  love,  and  then  her  force  she  tried  ; 
Love  was  made  ice,  that  fire  was  before. 
A  kiss  of  hers,  as  I,  poor  soul,  do  prove. 
Can  make  the  hottest  freeze  and  coldest  love. 


88  LI  CIA 


Love  with  her  hair  my  love  by  force  hath  tied. 
To  serve  her  lips,  her  eyes,  her  voice,  her  hand  ; 
I  smiled  for  joy,  when  I  the  boy  espied 
To  lie  unchained  and  live  at  her  command. 
She  if  she  look,  or  kiss,  or  sing,  or  smile, 
Cupid  withal  doth  smile,  doth  sing,  doth  kiss. 
Lips,    hands,    voice,    eyes,    all    hearts    that    may 

beguile. 
Because  she  scorns  all  hearts  but  only  this. 
Venus  for  this  in  pride  began  to  frown 
That  Cupid,  born  a  god,  enthralled  should  be. 
She  in  disdain  her  pretty  son  threw  down. 
And  ill  his  place,  with  love  she  chained  me. 
So  now,  sweet  love,  though  I  myself  be  thrall, 
Not  her  a  goddess,  but  thyself  I  call. 


L I  C I  A  89 


My  love  amazed  did  blush  herself  to  see, 
Pictured  by  art,  all  naked  as  she  was. 
"  How  could  the  painter  know  so  much  by  me, 
Or  art  effect  what  he  hath  brought  to  pass  ? 
It  is  not  like  he  naked  me  hath  seen. 
Or  stood  so  nigh  for  to  observe  so  much." 
No,  sweet ;  his  eyes  so  near  have  never  been, 
Nor  could  his  hands  by  art  have  cunning  such  ; 
I  showed  my  heart,  wherein  you  printed  were. 
You,  naked  you,  as  here  you  painted  ai-e  ; 
In  that  my  love  your  picture  I  must  wear. 
And  show't  to  all,  unless  you  have  more  care. 
Then  take  my  heart,  and  place  it  with  your  own 
So  shall  you  naked  never  more  be  known. 


90  LICIA 


VII 

Death  in  a  rage  assaulted  once  my  heart 

With  love  of  her,  my  love  that  doth  deny. 

I  scorned  his  force,  and  wished  him  to  depart, 

I  heartless  was,  and  therefore  could  not  die. 

I  live  in  her,  in  her  I  placed  my  life. 

She  guides  my  soul,  and  her  I  honour  must. 

Nor  is  this  life  but  yet  a  living  strife, 

A  thing  tmmeet,  and  yet  a  thing  most  just. 

Cupid  enraged  did  fly  to  make  me  love, 

My  heart  lay  guarded  with  those  burning  eyes 

The  sparks  whereof  denied  him  to  remove  ; 

So  conquered  now,  he  like  a  captive  lies  ; 

Thus  two  at  once  by  love  were  both  undone. 

My  heart  not  loved,  and  armless  Venus'  son. 


LI  CIA  91 


Hard  are  the  rocks,  the  marble,  and  the  steel. 

The  ancient  oak  with  wind  and  weather  tossed ; 

But  you,  my  love,  far  harder  do  I  feel 

Than  flint,  or  these,  or  is  the  winter's  frost. 

My  tears  too  weak,  your  heart  they  carmot  move  ; 

My  sighs,  that  rock,  like  wind  it  cannot  rent ; 

Too  tiger-like  you  swear  you  cannot  love  ; 

But  tears  and  sighs  you  fruitless  back  have  sent. 

The  frost  too  hard,  not  melted  with  my  flame, 

I  cinders  am,  and  yet  you  feel  no  heat. 

Surpass  not  these,  sweet  love,  for  very  shame. 

But  let  ray  tears,  my  vows,  my  sighs  entreat ; 

Then  shall  I  say  as  I  by  trial  find  ; 

These  all  are  hard,  but  you,  my  love,  are  kind. 


92  LICIA 


IX 

Love  was  laid  down^  all  weary  fast  asleep, 
Whereas  my  love  his  armor  took  away  ; 
The  boy  awaked,  and  straight  began  to  weep. 
But  stood  amazed,  and  knew  not  what  to  say. 
"  Weep  not,  my  boy,"  said  Venus  to  her  son, 
"  Thy  weapons  none  can  wield,  but  thou  alone  ; 
Licia  the  fair,  this  harm  to  thee  hath  done, 
I  saw  her  here,  and  presently  was  gone  ; 
She  will  restore  them,  for  she  hath  no  need 
To  take  thy  weapons  where  thy  valour  lies  ; 
For  men  to  wound  the  Fates  have  her  decreed. 
With  favour,  hands,  with  beauty,  and  with  eyes." 
No,  Venus,  no  :  she  scorns  them,  credit  me  ; 
But  robbed  thy  son  that  none  might  care  for  thee. 


L I  C I  A  93 


A  PAINTER  drew  the  image  of  the  boy. 
Swift  love,  with  wings  all  naked,  and  yet  blind 
With  bow  and  arrows,  bent  for  to  destroy ; 
I  blamed  his  skill,  and  fault  I  thus  did  find : 
"  A  needless  task  I  see  thy  cunning  take  ; 
Misled  by  love,  thy  fancy  thee  betrayed  ; 
Love  is  no  boy,  nor  blind,  as  men  him  make. 
Nor  weapons  wears,  whereof  to  be  affrayed  ; 
But  if  thou,  love,  wilt  jiaint  with  greatest  skill 
A  love,  a  maid,  a  goddess,  and  a  queen  ; 
Wonder  and  view  at  Licia's  picture  still. 
For  other  love  the  world  hath  never  seen  ; 
For  she  alone  all  hope  all  comfort  gives  ; 
Men's  hearts,  souls,  all,  led  by  her  favour  lives. ' 


94  L I  C  I  A 


XI 

In  Ida  vale  three  queens  the  shepherd  saw, 

Queens  of  esteem,  divine  they  were  all  three, 

A  sight  of  worth.     But  I  a  wonder  shaw. 

Their  virtues  all  in  one  alone  to  be. 

Licia  the  fair,  surpassing  Venus'  pride, 

(The  matchless  queen,  commander  of  the  gods. 

When  drawn  with  doves  she  in  her   pomp  doth 

ride) 
Hath  far  more  beauty,  and  more  grace  by  odds 
Juno,  Jove's  wife,  unmeet  to  make  compare, 
I  grant  a  goddess,  but  not  half  so  mild  ; 
Minerva  wise,  a  virtue,  but  not  rare  ; 
Yet  these  are  mean,  if  that  my  love  but  smiled. 
She  them  surpasseth,  when  their  prides  are  full 
As  far  as  they  surpass  the  meanest  trull. 


L  I  C I  A  95 


I  WISH  sometimes,  although  a  worthless  thing, 
Spurred  by  ambition,  glad  to  aspire. 
Myself  a  monarch,  or  some  mighty  king. 
And  then  my  thoughts  do  wish  for  to  be  higher. 
But  when  I  view  what  winds  the  cedars  toss. 
What  storms  men  feels  that  covet  for  renown, 
I  blame  myself  that  I  have  wished  my  loss. 
And  scorn  a  kingdom,  though  it  give  a  crown. 
Ah  Licia,  though  the  wonder  of  my  thought. 
My  heart's  content,  procurer  of  my  bliss. 
For  whom  a  crown  I  do  esteem  as  naught. 
As  Asia's  wealth,  too  mean  to  buy  a  kiss  ! 

Kiss  me,  sweet  love,  this  favor  do  for  me  ; 

Then  crowns   and  kingdoms  shall   I   scorn  for 
thee. 


96,  L I C I A 


Enamored  Jove  commanding  did  entreat 
Cupid  to  wound  my  love,  which  he  denied, 
And  swore  he  could  not  for  she  wanted  heat 
And  would  not  love,  as  he  full  oft  had  tried. 
Jove  in  a  rage,  impatient  this  to  hear. 
Replied  with  threats  ;  "  I'll  make  you  to  obey  !  " 
Whereat  the  boy  did  fly  away  for  fear 
To  Licia's  eyes,  where  safe  intrenched  he  lay. 
Then  Jove  he  scorned,  and  dared  him  to  his  face, 
For  now  more  safe  than  in  the  heavens  he  dwelled. 
Nor  could  Jove's  wrath  do  wrong  to  such  a  place 
Where  grace  and  honour  have  their  kingdom  held. 
Thus  in  the  pride  and  beauty  of  her  eyes 
The  seely  boy  the  greatest  god  defies. 


L I C I  A  97 


XIV 


My  love  lay  sleeping,  where  birds  music  made. 
Shutting  her  eyes,  disdamful  of  the  light ; 
The  heat  was  great  but  greater  was  the  shade 
Which  her  defended  from  his  burning  sight. 
This  Cupid  saw,  and  came  a  kiss  to  take. 
Sucking  sweet  nectar  from  her  sugared  breath  ; 
She  felt  the  touch,  and  blushed,  and  did  awake, 
Seeing  t'was  love,  which  she  did  think  was  death. 
She  cut  his  wings  and  caused  him  to  stay. 
Making  a  vow,  he  should  not  thence  depart. 
Unless  to  her  the  wanton  boy  could  pay 
The  truest,  kindest  and  most  loving  heart. 
His  feathers  still  she  used  for  a  fan. 
Till  by  exchange  my  heart  his  feathers  won. 


gs  L I  C I  A 


I  STOOD  amazed,  and  saw  my  Licia  shine. 
Fairer  than  Phoebus,  in  his  brightest  pride. 
Set  forth  in  colors  by  a  hand  divine. 
Where  naught  was  wanting  but  a  soul  to  guide. 
It  was  a  picture,  that  I  could  descry. 
Yet  made  with  art  so  as  it  seemed  to  live, 
Sui-passing  fair,  and  yet  it  had  no  eye. 
Whereof  my  senses  could  no  reason  give. 
With  that  the  painter  bid  me  not  to  muse ; 
"  Her  eyes  are  shut,  but  I  deserve  no  blame  ; 
For  if  she  saw,  in  faith,  it  could  not  choose 
But  that  the  work  had  wholly  been  a  flame,"— 

Then  burn  me,  SAveet,  with  brightness  of  your 
eyes. 

That  phoenix-like  from  thence  I  may  arise. 


L I  C I A  99 


Grant,  fairest  kind,  a  kiss  unto  thy  friend  ! 

A  blush  replied,  and  yet  a  kiss  I  had. 

It  is  not  heaven  that  can  such  nectar  send 

Whereat  my  senses  all  amazed  were  glad. 

This  done,  she  fled  as  one  that  was  affrayed. 

And  I  desired  to  kiss  by  kissing  more ; 

My  love  she  frowned,  and  I  my  kissing  stayed, 

Yet  wished  to  kiss  her  as  I  did  before. 

Then  as  the  vine  the  propping  elm  doth  clasj). 

Loath  to  depart  till  both  together  die. 

So  fold  me,  sweet,  until  my  latest  gasp. 

That  in  thy  arms  to  death  I  kissed  may  lie. 

Thus  whilst  I  live  for  kisses  I  must  call ; 

Still  kiss  me,  sweet,  or  kiss  me  not  at  all. 


100  L I  C  I  A 


As  are  the  sands,  fair  Licia,  on  the  shore. 
Or  colored  flowers,  garlands  of  the  spring. 
Or  as  the  frosts  not  seen,  not  felt  before. 
Or  as  the  fruits  that  autumn  forth  doth  bring  ; 
As  twinkling  stars,  the  tinsel  of  the  night. 
Or  as  the  fish  that  gallop  in  the  seas  ; 
As  airs  each  part  that  still  escapes  our  sight, 
So  are  my  sighs,  controllers  of  my  ease. 
Yet  these  are  such  as  needs  must  have  an  end, 
For  things  finite  none  else  hath  nature  done  ; 
Only  the  sighs,  which  from  my  heart  I  send. 
Will  never  cease,  but  where  they  first  begun. 

Accept  them,  sweet,  as  incense  due  to  thee  ; 

For  you  immortal  made  them  so  to  be. 


LICIA  101 


-Win 

I  SWEAR,  fair  Licia,  still  for  to  be  thine. 

By  heart,  by  eyes,  by  what  I  held  most  clear ; 

Thou  checked  mine  oath,  and  said  :  these  were 

not  mine. 
And  that  I  had  no  right  by  them  to  swear. 
Then  by  my  sighs,  my  passions,  and  my  tears, 
My  vows,  my  prayers,  my  sorrow,  and  my  love. 
My  grief,  my  joy,  my  hope,  and  hopeless  fears. 
My  heart  is  thine,  and  never  shall  remove. 
These  are  not  thine,  though  sent  unto  thy  view. 
All  else  I  grant,  by  right  they  are  thine  own  ; 
Let  these  suffice  that  what  I  swear  is  true, 
And  more  than  this  if  that  it  could  be  known. 

So  shall  all  these   though    troubles    ease    my 
grief; 

If  that  they  serve  to  work  in  thee  belief. 


102  LI  CI  A 


That  time,  fail-  Licia,  when  I  stole  a  kiss. 

From  off  those  lips,  where  Cupid  lovely  laid, 

I  quaked  for  cold,  and  found  the  cause  was  this  : 

My  life  which  loved,  for  love  behind  me  staid. 

I  sent  my  heart  my  life  for  to  recall. 

But  that  was  held,  not  able  to  return. 

And  both  detained  as  captives  were  in  thrall. 

And  judged  by  her,  that  both  by  sighs  should 

burn. 
Fair,  bum  them  both,  for  that  they  were  so  bold, 
But  let  the  altar  be  within  thy  heart ; 
And  I  shall  live  because  my  life  you  hold. 
You  that  give  life,  to  every  living  part ; 

A  flame  I  took  whenas  I  stole  the  kiss  ; 

Take  you  my  life,  yet  can  I  live  with  this. 


LICIA  10.^ 


First  did  I  fear,  when  first  my  love  began  ; 
Possessed  in  fits  by  watchful  jealousy, 
I  sought  to  keep  what  I  by  favour  won, 
And  brooked  no  partner  in  my  love  to  be. 
But  tyrant  sickness  fed  upon  my  love. 
And  spread  his  ensigns,  dyed  with  colour  white  ; 
Then  was  suspicion  glad  for  to  remove. 
And  loving  much  did  fear  to  lose  her  quite. 
Erect,  fair  sweet,  the  colors  thou  didst  weai- : 
Dislodge  thy  griefs,  the  short 'ners  of  content ; 
For  now  of  life,  not  love,  is  all  my  fear. 
Lest  life  and  love  be  both  together  spent. 
Live  but,  fair  love,  and  banish  thy  disease. 
And  love,  kind  heart,  both  where  and  whom 
thou  please. 


104  LICIA 


LiciA  my  love  was  sitting  in  a  grove. 
Tuning  her  smiles  unto  the  chirping  songs. 
But  straight  she  spied  where  two  together  strove. 
Each  one  complaining  of  the  other's  wrongs. 
Cupid  did  cry  lamenting  of  the  harm ; 
Jove's  messenger,  thou  wrong' st  me  too  too  far ; 
Use  thou  thy  rod,  rely  upon  the  charm ; 
Think  not  by  speech  my  force  thou  canst  debar. 
A  rod,  Sir  boy,  were  fitter  for  a  child, 
My  weapons  oft  and  tongue  and  mind  you  took  ; 
And  in  my  wrong  at  my  distress  thou  smiled. 
And  scorned  to  grace  me  with  a  loving  look. 
Speak  you,  sweet  love,  for  you  did  all  the  wrong 
That  broke  his  arrows,  and  did  bind  his  tongue. 


LI  CI  A  105 


XXII 

I  MIGHT  have  died  before  my  life  begun, 
Whenas  my  father  for  his  country's  good 
The  Persian's  favor  and  the  Sophy  won 
And  yet  with  danger  of  his  dearest  blood. 
Thy  father,  sweet,  whom  danger  did  beset, 
Escaped  all,  and  for  no  other  end 
But  only  this,  that  you  he  might  beget. 
Whom  heavens  decreed  into  the  world  to  send. 
Then  father,  thank  thy  daughter  for  thy  life. 
And  Neptune  praise  that  yielded  so  to  thee. 
To  calm  the  tempest  when  the  storms  were  rife, 
And  that  thy  daughter  should  a  Venus  be. 
I  call  thee  Venus,  sweet,  but  be  not  wroth  ; 
Thou  art  more  chaste,  yet  seas  did  favor  both. 


106  LICIA 


XXIII 

My  love  was  masked,  and  armed  with  a  fan. 
To  see  the  sun  so  careless  of  his  light. 
Which  stood  and  gazed,  and  gazing  waxed  wan 
To  see  a  star  himself  that  was  more  bright. 
Some  did  surmize  she  hid  her  from  the  sun. 
Of  whom  in  pride  she  scorned  for  to  be  kissed, 
Or  feared  the  harm  by  him  to  others  done. 
But  these  the  reason  of  this  wonder  missed, 
Nor  dui'st  the  sun,  if  that  her  face  were  bare 
In  greatest  pride,  presume  to  take  a  kiss. 
But  she  more  kind  did  show  she  had  more  care 
Than  with  her  eyes  eclipse  him  of  his  bliss. 

Unmask  you,  sweet,  and  spare  not ;  dim  the  sun  ; 

Your  light's  enough,  although   that   his  were 
done. 


LI  CI  A  107 


XXIV 

Whenas  my  love  lay  sickly  in  her  bed. 

Pale  death  did  post  in  hope  to  have  a  prey  ; 

But  she  so  spotless  made  him  that  he  fled  ; 

"  Unmeet  to  die/'  she  cried,  and  could  not  stay. 

Back  he  retired,  and  thus  the  heavens  he  told  ; 

"  All  things  that  are,  are  subject  unto  me. 

Both  towns,  and  men,  and  what  the  world  cloth 
hold; 

But  her  fair  Licia  still  immortal  be.  " 

The  heavens  did  grant ;  a  goddess  she  was  made. 

Immortal,  fair,  unfit  to  suffer  change. 

So  now  she  lives,  and  never  moi-e  shall  fade ; 

In  earth  a  goddess,  what  can  be  more  strange  ? 
Then  will  I  hope,  a  goddess  and  so  near. 
She   cannot  choose  my  sighs  and  prayers  but 
hear. 


108  LI  CI  A 


Seven  are  the  lights  that  wander  in  the  skies. 
And  at  these  seven,  I  wonder  in  my  love. 
So  see  the  moon,  how  pale  she  doth  arise. 
Standing  amazed,  as  though  she  durst  not  move  ; 
So  is  my  sweet  much  paler  than  the  snow. 
Constant  her  looks,  these  looks  that  cannot  change. 
Mercury  the  next,  a  god  sweet-tongued  we  know. 
But  her  sweet  voice  doth  wonders   speak   more 

strange. 
The  rising  Sun  doth  boast  him  of  his  pride. 
And  yet  my  love  is  far  more  fair  than  he. 
The  warlike  Mars  can  wieldless  weapons  guide. 
But  yet  that  god  is  far  more  weak  than  she. 
The  lovely  Venus  seemeth  to  be  fair. 
But  at  her  best  my  love  is  far  more  bright. 
Saturn  for  age  with  groans  doth  dim  the  air. 
Whereas  my  love  with  smiles  doth  give  it  light. 

Gaze  at  her  brows,  where  heaven  ingrafted  is ; 

Then  sigh,  and  swear,  there  is  no  heaven  but 
this. 


L  I  C I  A  109 


I  LIVE,  sweet  love,  whereas  the  gentle  wind 
Murmurs  with  sport  in  midst  of  thickest  boughs, 
Where  loving  woodbme  doth  the  harbor  bind. 
And  chirping  birds  do  echo  forth  my  vows ; 
^\^lere  strongest  elm  can  scarce  support  the  vine. 
And  sweetest  flowers  enameled  have  the  ground  ; 
Where  Muses  dwell ;  and  yet  hereat  repine 
That  on  the  earth  so  rare  a  place  was  found. 
But  >vinds  delight,  I  wish  to  be  content ; 
1  praise  the  woodbme,  but  I  take  no  joy ; 
I  moan  the  birds  that  music  thus  have  spent ; 
As  for  the  I'est,  they  breed  but  mine  amio}-. 

Live  then,  fair  Licia,  in  this  place  alone ; 

Then  shall  I  joy  though  all  of  these  were  gone. 


110  LICIA 


The  crystal  stream  wherein  my  love  did  swim, 
Melted  in  tears  as  partners  of  my  woe  ; 
Her  shine  was  such  as  did  the  fomitain  dim. 
The  pearl-like  fountain  whiter  than  the  snow  ; 
Then  like  perfume,  resolved  with  a  heat. 
The  fountain  smoked,  as  if  it  thought  to  burn  ; 
A  wonder  strange  to  see  the  cold  so  great. 
And  yet  the  fountain  into  smoke  to  turn. 
I  searched  the  cause,  and  found  it  to  be  this  : 
She  touched  the  water,  and  it  burned  with  love. 
Now  by  her  means  it  purchased  hath  that  bhss, 
Whicli  all  diseases  quickly  can  remove. 

Then  if  by  you  these  streams  thus  blessed  be, 
Sweet,  grant  me  love,  and  be  not  worse  to  me. 


LICIA  111 


XXVIII 

In  time  the  strong  and  stately  turrets  fall, 
In  time  the  rose  and  silver  lilies  die, 
In  time  the  monarchs  captive  are  and  thrall. 
In  time  the  sea  and  rivers  are  made  dry  ; 
The  hardest  flint  in  time  doth  melt  asunder  ; 
Still  living  fame  in  time  doth  fade  away ; 
The  mountains  jiroud  we  see  in  time  come  under ; 
And  earth  for  age  we  see  in  time  decay  ; 
The  sun  in  time  forgets  for  to  retire 
From  out  the  east  where  he  was  wont  to  rise  ; 
The  basest  thoughts  we  see  in  time  aspire, 
And  greedy  minds  in  time  do  wealth  despise. 
Thus  all,  sweet  fair,  in  time  must  have  an  end, 
Except  thy  beauty,  virtues,  and  thy  friend. 


112  LICIA 


Why  died  I  not  whenas  I  last  did  sleep  ? 

0  sleep  too  short  that  shadowed  forth  my  dear  ! 
HeavenSj  hear  my  prayers,  nor  thus  me  waking 

keep ! 
For  this  were  heaven,  if  thus  I  sleeping  were. 
For  in  that  dark  there  shone  a  princely  light ; 
Two  milk-white  hills,  both  full  of  nectar  sweet. 
Her  ebon  thighs,  the  wonder  of  my  sight. 
Where  all  my  senses  with  their  objects  meet, — 

1  pass  these  sports,  in  secret  that  are  best. 
Wherein  my  thoughts  did  seem  alive  to  be  ; 
We  both  did  strive,  and  weary  both  did  rest ; 
I  kissed  her  still,  and  still  she  kissed  me. 

Heavens,  let  me  sleep,  and  shows   my  senses 

feed. 
Or  let  me  wake  and  happy  be  indeed  ! 


LICIA  118 


Whenas  my  Licia  sailed  in  the  seas, 
Viewing  with  pride  god  Neptune's  stately  crown, 
A  calm  she  made,  and  brought  the  merchant  ease. 
The  storm  she  stayed,  and  checked  him  with  a 

frown. 
Love  at  the  stem  sate  smiling  and  did  sing 
To  see  how  seas  had  learned  for  to  obey  ; 
And  balls  of  fire  into  the  waves  did  fling  ; 
And  still  the  boy  full  wanton  thus  did  say  : — 
"  Both  poles  we  burnt  whereon  the  world  doth 

turn. 
The  round  of  heaven  from  earth  unto  the  skies  ; 
And  now  the  seas  we  both  intend  to  bum, 
I  with  my  bow,  and  Licia  with  her  eyes." 

Then  since  thy  force,  heavens,  earth,  nor  seas 

can  move, 
I  conquered  yield,  and  do  confess  I  love. 


114  LI  CIA 


Whenas  her  lute  is  tuned  to  her  voice. 
The  air  grows  proud  for  honour  of  that  sound, 
And  rocks  do  leap  to  show  how  they  rejoice 
That  in  the  earth  such  music  should  be  found. 
Whenas   her   hair   more  worth,  more   pale  than 

gold. 
Like  silver  thread  lies  wafting  in  the  air, 
Diana-like  she  looks,  but  yet  more  bold  ; 
Cruel  in  chase,  more  chaste  and  yet  more  fair. 
Whenas  she  smiles,  the  clouds  for  envy  breaks  ; 
She  Jove  in  pride  encounters  with  a  check  ; 
The  sun  doth  shine  for  joy  whenas  she  speaks  ; 
Thus  heaven  and  earth  do  homage  at  her  beck. 
Yet  all  these  graces,  blots,  not  graces  are. 
If  you,  my  love,  of  love  do  take  no  care. 


L I  C I  A  1 1 .  > 


XXXII 

Years,   months,    days,    hours,   in    sighs    I    sadly 
spend ;  ^ 

I  black  the  night  wherein  I  sleepless  toss  ; 

I  love  my  griefs  yet  wish  them  at  an  end  ; 

Thus  time's  expense  increaseth  but  my  loss. 

I  musing  stand  and  wonder  at  my  love. 

That  in  so  fair  should  be  a  heart  of  steel ; 

And  then  I  think  my  fancy  to  remove, 

But  then  more  painful  I  my  passions  feel ; 

Thus  must  I  love,  sweet  fair,  until  I  die. 

And  your  unkindness  doth  my  love  increase. 

I  conquered  am,  I  can  it  not  deny ; 

My  life  must  end,  yet  shall  my  love  not  cease. 
Then  heavens,  make  Licia  fair  most  kind  to  me, 
Or  with  my  life  my  loss  may  finished  be  ! 


116  LICIA 


XXXIII 

I  WROTE  my  sighs,  and  sent  them  to  my  love  ; 
I  praised  that  fair  that  none  enough  could  praise  ; 
But  plaints  nor  praises  could  fair  Licia  move  ; 
Above  my  reach  she  did  her  virtues  raise, 
And  thus  replied  :  "  False  Scrawl,  untrue  thou  ai*t, 
To  feign  those  sighs  that  nowhere  can  be  found  ; 
For  half  those  praises  came  not  from  his  heart 
Whose  faith  and  love  as  yet  was  never  found. 
Thy  master's  life,  false  Scrawl  shall  be  thy  doom  ; 
Because  he  bums,  I  judge  thee  to  the  flame  ; 
Both  your  attempts  deserve  no  better  room." 
Thus  at  her  word  we  ashes  both  became. 

Believe  me,  fair,  and  let  my  paper  live  ; 

Or  be  not  fair,  and  so  me  freedom  give. 


LICIA  117 


XXXIV 

Pale  are  my  looks^  forsaken  of  my  life, 
Cinders  my  bones,  consumed  with  thy  flame, 
Floods  are  my  tears,  to  end  this  burning  strife. 
And  yet  I  sigh  for  to  increase  the  same  ; 
I  mourn  alone  because  alone  I  bum ; 
Who  doubts  of  this,  then  let  him  learn  to  love  ; 
Her  looks  cold  ice  into  a  flame  can  turn. 
As  I  distressed  in  myself  do  prove. 
Respect,  fair  Licia,  what  my  tomients  are  ; 
Count  but  the  tithe  both  of  my  sighs  and  tears  ; 
See  how  my  love  doth  still  increase  my  care. 
And  care's  increase  my  life  to  nothing  wears. 
Send  but  a  sigh  my  flame  for  to  increase. 
Or  lend  a  tear  and  cause  it  so  to  cease. 


118  LICIA 


XXXV 

Whenas  I  wish,  fair  Licia,  for  a  kiss 

From  those  sweet  lips  where  rose  and  liHes  strive, 

Straight  do  mine  eyes  repine  at  such  a  bhss. 

And  seek  my  hps  thereof  for  to  deprive  ; 

Whenas  I  seek  to  glut  mine  eyes  by  sight. 

My  lips  repine  and  call  mine  eyes  away  ; 

Thus  both  contend  to  have  each  other's  right. 

And  both  conspire  to  work  my  full  decay. 

O  force  admired  of  beauty  in  her  pride. 

In  whose  each  part  such  strange  eflFects  there  be. 

That  all  my  forces  in  themselves  divide. 

And  make  my  senses  plainly  disagree. 

If  all  were  mine,  this  envy  would  be  gone  ; 

Then   grant  me   all,  fair   sweet,  or  grant  me 
none  ! 


LICIA  119 


Hear  how  my  sighs  are  echoed  of  the  wind ; 
See  how  my  tears  are  pitied  by  the  rain  ; 
Feel  what  a  flame  possessed  hath  my  mind  ; 
Taste  but  the  grief  which  I  possess  in  vain. 
Then  if  my  sighs  the  blustering  winds  surpass. 
And  wat'ry  tears  the  drops  of  rain  exceed. 
And  if  no  flame  like  mine  nor  is  nor  was, 
Nor  grief  like  that  whereon  my  soul  doth  feed. 
Relent,  fair  Licia,  when  my  sighs  do  blow ; 
Yield  at  my  tears,  that  flintlike  drops  consume  ; 
Accept  the  flame  that  doth  my  incense  show. 
Allow  the  grief  that  is  my  heart's  perfume. 

Thus  sighs  and  tears,  flame,  grief  shall  plead 
for  me ; 

So  shall  I  pray,  and  you  a  goddess  be. 


120  LI  CI  A 


XXXVII 

I  SPEAK,  fair  Licia,  what  my  torments  be, 

But  then  my  speech  too  partial  do  I  find ; 

For  hardly  words  can  with  those  thoughts  agree, 

Those  thoughts  that   swarm   in  such  a  troubled 

mind. 
Then  do  I  vow  my  tongue  shall  never  speak 
Nor  tell  my  grief  that  in  my  heart  doth  lie  ; 
But  cannon-like,  I  then  surcharged  do  break. 
And  so  my  silence  worse  than  speech  I  try. 
Thus  speech  or  none,  they  both  do  breed  my  care  ; 
I  live  dismayed,  and  kill  my  heart  with  grief; 
In  all  respects  my  case  alike  doth  fare 
To  him  that  wants,  and  dare  not  ask  relief. 
Then  you,  fair  Lucia,  sovereign  of  my  heart, 
Read  to  yourself  my  anguish  and  my  smart. 


LICIA  181 


XXXVIIl 

Sweet,  1  protest,  and  seal  it  with  an  oath : 

I  never  saw  that  so  my  thoughts  did  please ; 

And  yet  content  displeased  I  see  them  wroth 

To  love  so  much  and  cannot  have  their  ease. 

I  told  my  thoughts,  my  sovereign  made  a  pause. 

Disposed  to  grant,  but  willing  to  delay ; 

They  then  repined,  for  that  they  knew  no  cause. 

And  swore  they  wished  she  flatly  would  say  nay. 

Thus   hath   my   love   my   thoughts  with  treason 

filled. 
And  'gainst  my  sovereign  taught  them  to  repine. 
So  thus  my  treason  all  my  thoughts  hath  killed, 
And  made  fair  Licia  say  she  is  not  mine. 

But   thoughts   too   rash   my   heart    doth    now 

repent ; 
And    as    you    please,    they    swear,    they    are 

content 


122  LICIA 


XXXIX 


Fair  matchless  nymphj  respect  but  what  I  crave  ; 
My  thoughts  are  true,  and  honour  is  my  love  ; 
I  fainting  die  whom  yet  a  smile  might  save ; 
You  gave  the  wound,  and  can  the  hurt  remove. 
Those  eyes  like  stars  that  twinkle  in  the  night, 
And  cheeks  like  rubies  pale  in  lilies  dyed. 
Those  ebon  hands  that  darting  hath  such  might 
That  in  my  soul  my  love  and  life  divide, 
Accept  the  passions  of  a  man  possessed  ; 
Let  love  be  loved  and  grant  me  leave  to  live ; 
Disperse   those   clouds   that   darkened   have   my 

rest. 
And  let  your  heaven  a  sun-like  smile  but  give  ! 
Then  shall  I  praise  that  heaven  for  such  a  sun 
That  saved  my  life,  whenas  my  grief  begun. 


LICIA  123 


XL 

My  grief  begun,  fair  saint,  when  first  I  saw 

Love  in  those  eyes  sit  ruling  with  disdain. 

Whose  sweet  commands  did  keep  a  world  in  awe. 

And  caused  them  serve  your  favor  to  obtain. 

I  stood  as  one  enchanted  with  a  frown. 

Yet  smiled  to  see  all  creatures  serve  those  eyes. 

Where  each  with  sighs  paid  tribute  to  that  crown. 

And  thought  them  gi'aced  by  your  dumb  replies. 

But  I,  ambitious,  could  not  be  content 

Till    that    my   service    more    than   sighs    made 

known; 
And  for  that  end  my  heart  to  you  I  sent 
To  say  and  swear  that,  fair,  it  is  your  own. 
Then  greater  graces,  Licia,  do  impart. 
Not  dumb  replies  unto  a  spealdng  heart. 


124  LI  CIA 

SONNET  MADE  UPON  THE  TWO 
TWINS,  DAUGHTERS  OF  THE  LADY 
MOLLINEUX,  BOTH  PASSING  LIKE, 
AND  EXCEEDING  FAIR 

Poets  did  feign  that  heavens  a  Venus  had. 
Matchless  herself,  and  Cupid  was  her  son  ; 
Men  sued  to  these,  and  of  their  smiles  were  glad. 
By  whom  so  many  famous  were  undone. 
Now  Cupid  mourns  that  he  hath  lost  his  might. 
And  that  these  two  so  comely  are  to  see ; 
And  Venus  frowns  because  they  have  her  right. 
Yet  both  so  like  that  both  shall  blameless  be ; 
With  heaven's  two  twins  for  godhead  these  may 

strive. 
And  rule  a  world  with  least  part  of  a  frown  ; 
Fairer  than  these  tAvo  twins  are  not  alive. 
Both   conquering    queens,   and    both   deserve   a 

crown. 
My  thoughts  presage,  which  time  to  come  shall 

try. 
That  thousands  conquered  for  their  love  shall 

die. 


L  I  C I  A  125 


XLI 

If,  aged  Charon,  when  my  life  shall  end, 

I  pass  thy  ferry  and  my  waftage  pay. 

Thy  oars  shall  fall,  thy  boat  and  mast  shall  rend. 

And  through  the  deep  shall  be  a  dry  foot-way. 

For  why  ?   My  heart  with  sighs  doth  breathe  such 

flame 
That  air  and  water  both  incensed  be, 
The   boundless   ocean   from   whose   mouth   they 

came, 
For  from  my  heat  not  heaven  itself  is  free. 
Then  since  to  me  thy  loss  can  be  no  gain. 
Avoid  thy  harm  and  fly  what  I  foretell. 
Make  thou  thy  love  with  me  for  to  be  slain. 
That  I  with  her  and  both  with  thee  may  dwell. 
Thy  fact  thus,  Charon,  both  of  us  shall  bless. 
Thou  save  thy  boat  and  I  my  love  possess. 


126  LI  CI  A 


XLIi 

For  if  alone  thou  think  to  waft  my  love. 
Her  cold  is  such  as  can  the  sea  command. 
And  frozen  ice  shall  let  thy  boat  to  move. 
Nor  can  thy  forces  row  it  from  the  land. 
But  if  thou  friendly  both  at  once  shalt  take, 
Thyself  mayst  rest.     For  why  ?     My  sighs  will 

blow. 
Our  cold  and  heat  so  sweet  a  thaw  shall  make. 
As  that  thy  boat  without  thy  help  shall  row. 
Then  will  I  sit  and  glut  me  on  those  eyes 
Wherewith  my  life  my  eyes  could  never  fill. 
Thus  from  my  boat  that  comfort  shall  arise, 
The  want  whereof  my  life  and  hope  did  kill. 
Together  placed  so  thou  her  scorn  shalt  cross. 
Where  if  we  part  thy  boat  must  suffer  loss. 


LICIA  127 


XLIII 

Are  those  two  stars,  her  eyes,  my  life's  light  gone. 
By  which  my  soul  was  freed  from  all  dark  ? 
And  am  I  left  distressed  to  live  alone. 
Where   none   my  tears  and  mournful  tale  shall 

mark  ? 
Ah  sun,  why  shine  thy  looks,  thy  looks  like  gold, 
When  horsemen  brave  thou  risest  in  the  east  ? 
Ah  Cynthia  pale,  to  whom  my  griefs  I  told. 
Why  do  you  both  rejoice  both  man  and  beast  ? 
And  I  alone,  alone  that  dark  possess 
By  Licia's  absence  brighter  than  the  sun. 
Whose  smiling  light  did  ease  my  sad  distress, 
And    broke    the    clouds,    when   tears    like   rain 
begun. 

Heavens,  grant  that  light  and  so  me  waking 
keep. 

Or  shut  my  eyes  and  rock  me  fast  asleep  ! 


128  LI  CI  A 


XLIV 

Cruel  fair  love^  I  justly  do  complain 
Of  too  much  rigor  and  thy  heart  unkind. 
That  for  mine  eyes  thou  hast  my  body  slain. 
And  would  not  grant  that  I  should  favour  find. 
I  looked,  fair  love,  and  you  my  love  looked  fair, 
I  sighed  for  love  and  you  for  sport  did  smile. 
Your  smiles  were  such  as  did  perfume  the  air, 
And  this  perfumed  did  my  heart  beguile. 
Thus  I  confess  the  fault  was  in  mine  eyes. 
Begun  with  sighs  and  ended  with  a  flame. 
I  for  your  love  did  all  the  world  despise. 
And  in  these  poems  honored  have  your  name. 
Then  let  your  love  so  with  my  fault  dispense. 
That  all  my  parts  feel  not  mine  eyes'  offense. 


LI  CI  A  129 


XLV 

There  shone  a  comet,  and  it  was  full  west. 
My  thoughts  presaged  what  it  did  portend  ; 
I  found  it  threatened  to  my  heart  unrest, 
And  might  in  time  my  joys  and  comfort  end. 
I  further  sought  and  found  it  was  a  sun. 
Which  day  nor  night  did  never  use  to  set. 
It  constant  stood  when  heavens  did  restless  run, 
And  did  their  virtues  and  their  forces  let. 
The  world  did  muse  and  wonder  what  it  meant, 

A  sun  to  shine  and  in  the  west  to  rise  ; 
To  search  the  truth,  I  strength  and  spirits  spent ; 

At  length  I  found  it  was  my  Licia's  eyes. 
Now  never  after  soul  shall  live  in  dark. 
That  hath  the  hap  this  western  sun  to  mark. 


130  LI  CI  A 


If  he  be  dead,  in  whom  no  heart  remains. 

Or  lifeless  be  in  whom  no  life  is  found ; 

If  he  do  pine  that  never  comfort  gains. 

And  be  distressed  that  hath  his  deadly  wound  ; 

Then  must  I  die  whose  heart  elsewhere  is  clad, 

And  lifeless  pass  the  greedy  worms  to  feed  ; 

Then  must  I  pine  that  never  comfort  had, 

And  be  distressed  whose  wound  with  tears  doth 

bleed. 
Which  if  I  do,  why  do  I  not  wax  cold  ? 
Why  rest  I  not  like  one  that  wants  a  heart  ? 
Why  move  I  still  like  him  that  life  doth  hold. 
And  sense  enjoy  both  of  my  joy  and  smart  ? 
Like  Niobe  queen  which  made  a  stone  did  weep, 
Licia  my  heart  dead  and  alive  doth  keep. 


LICIA  131 


Like  Memnon's  rock,  touched  with  the  rising  sun 
Which  yields  a  sound  and  echoes  forth  a  voice, 
But  when  it's  drowned  in  western  seas  is  done. 
And  drowsy-like  leaves  off  to  make  a  noise  ; 
So  I,  my  love,  enlightened  with  your  shine, 
A  poet's  skill  within  my  soul  I  shroud. 
Not  rude  like  that  which  finer  wits  decline. 
But  such  as  Muses  to  the  best  allowed. 
But  when  your  figure  and  your  shape  is  gone 
I  speechless  am  like  as  I  was  before  ; 
Or  if  I  write,  my  verse  is  filled  with  moan. 
And  blurred  with  tears  by  falling  in  such  stoi'e 
Then  muse  not,  Licia,  if  my  Muse  be  slack, 
F'or  when  I  wrote  I  did  thy  beauty  lack. 


132  LI  CI  A 


I  SAW,  sweet  Licia,  when  the  spider  ran 
Within  your  house  to  weave  a  worthless  web, 
You  present  were  and  feared  her  with  your  fan, 
So  that  amazed  speedily  she  fled. 
She  in  your  house  such  sweet  perfumes  did  smell. 
And  heard  the  Muses  with  their  notes  refined. 
Thus  filled  with  envy,  could  no  longer  dwell. 
But  straight  returned  and  at  your  house  repined. 
Then  tell  me,  spider,  why  of  late  I  saw 
Thee  lose  thy  poison,  and  thy  bowels  gone  ; 
Did  these  enchant  and  keep  thy  limbs  in  awe. 
And  made  thy  forces  to  be  small  or  none  ? 
No,  no,  thou  didst  by  chance  my  Licia  see, 
Who  for  her  look  Minerva  seemed  to  thee. 


LI  CI  A  133 


xux 


If  that  I  die,  fair  Licia,  with  disdain. 

Or  heartless  live  surprised  with  thy  wrong, 

Then  heavens  and   earth  shall  accent  both   my 

pain, 
And  curse  the  time  so  cruel  and  so  long. 
If  you  be  kind,  my  queen,  as  you  are  fair. 
And    aid    my    thoughts    that   still    for    conquest 

strive. 
Then  will  I  sing  and  never  more  despair. 
And  praise  your  kindness  whilst  I  am  alive. 
Till  then  I  pay  the  tribute  of  my  tears, 
To  move  thy  mercy  and  thy  constant  truth. 
Respect,  fair  love,  how  these  with  sorrow  weai*s 
The  truest  heart  unless  it  find  some  ruth. 

Then  grace  me,   sweet,   and    with    thy    favor 

raise  me. 
So  shall  I  live  and  all  the  world  shall  praise 

thee. 


KU  LICIA 


Ah  Licia,  sigh  and  say  thou  art  my  own  ; 
Nay,  be  my  own,  as  you  full  oft  have  said. 
So  shall  your  truth  unto  the  world  be  known. 
And  I  resolved  where  now  I  am  afraid. 
And  if  my  tongue  eternize  can  your  praise. 
Or  silly  speech  increase  your  worthy  fame, 
If  ought  I  can,  to  heaven  your  worth  can  raise, 
The  age  to  come  shall  wonder  at  the  same. 
In  this  respect  your  love,  sweet  love,  I  told, 
My  faith  and  truth  I  vowed  should  be  forever. 
You  were  the  cause  if  that  I  was  too  bold  ; 
Then  pardon  this  my  fault  or  love  me  never. 
But  if  you  frown  I  wish  that  none  believe  me. 
For   slain  with  sighs   I'll  die  before   I   grieve 
thee. 


LICIA  135 


LI 

When  first  the  sun  wliom  all  my  senses  serve, 
Began  to  shine  upon  this  earthly  round. 
The  heavens  for  her  all  graces  did  reserve^ 
That  Pandor-like  with  all  she  might  abound. 
Apollo  placed  his  brightness  in  her  eyes. 
His  skill  presaging  and  his  music  sweet. 
Mars  gave  his  force  ;  all  force  she  now  defies  ; 
Venus  her  smiles  wherewith  she  Mars  did  meet ; 
Python  a  voice,  Diana  made  her  chaste, 
Ceres  gave  plenty,  Cupid  lent  his  bow, 
Thetis  his  feet,  there  Pallas  wisdom  placed. 
With  these  she  queen-like  kept  a  world  in  awe. 
Yet  all  these  honors  deemed  ai'e  but  pelf. 
For  she  is  much  more  worthy  of  herself. 


136  LI  CI  A 


O  SUGARED  talk,  wherewith  my  thoughts  do  live  ! 

O  brows,  love's  trophy  and  my  senses'  shine  ! 

O  charming  smiles,  that  death  or  life  can  give  ! 

O  heavenly  kisses  from  a  mouth  divine  ! 

O  wreaths  too  strong,  and  trammels  made  of  hair  ! 

O  pearls  inclosed  in  an  ebon  pale  ! 

O  rose  and  lilies  in  a  field  most  fair. 

Where  modest  white  doth    make  the  red  seem 

pale  ! 
O  voice  whose  accents  live  within  my  heart ! 
O  heavenly  hand  that  more  than  Atlas  holds  ! 
O  sighs  perfumed,  that  can  release  my  smai't ! 
O  happy  they  whom  in  her  arms  she  folds ! 
,     Now  if  you  ask  where  dwelleth  all  this  bliss. 
Seek  out  my  love  and  she  will  tell  you  this. 


L I C I A  im 


AN    ODE 


Love,  I  repent  me  that  I  thought 

My  sighs  and  languish  dearly  bought. 

For  sighs  and  languish  both  did  prove 

That  he  that  languished  sighed  for  love. 

Cruel  rigor,  foe  to  state. 

Looks  disdainful,  fraught  with  hate, 

I  did  blame,  but  had  no  cause  ; 

Love  hath  eyes,  but  hath  no  laws. 

She  was  sad  and  could  not  choose 

To  see  me  sigh  and  sit  and  muse. 

We  both  did  love  and  both  did  doubt 

Least  any  should  our  love  find  out. 

Our  hearts  did  speak  by  sighs  most  hidden 

This  means  was  left,  all  else  forbidden. 

I  did  frown  her  love  to  try, 

She  did  sigh  and  straight  did  cry. 

Both  of  us  did  sighs  believe. 

Yet  either  grieved  friend  to  grieve. 

I  did  look  and  then  did  smile  ; 

She  left  sighing  all  that  while. 


138  LICIA 

Both  were  glad  to  see  that  change. 

Things  in  love  that  are  not  strange. 

Suspicion,  foolish  foe  to  reason, 

Caused  me  seek  to  find  some  treason. 

I  did  court  another  dame, 

False  in  love,  it  is  a  shame  ! — 

She  was  soriy  this  to  view, 

Thinking  faith  was  proved  untrue. 

Then  she  swore  she  would  not  love 

One  whom  false  she  once  did  prove. 

I  did  vow  I  never  meant 

From  promise  made  for  to  relent. 

The  more  I  said  the  worse  she  thought. 

My  oaths  and  vows  were  deemed  as  naught. 

"  False,"  she  said  "  how  can  it  be. 

To  court  another  yet  love  me  .'' 

Crowns  and  love  no  partners  brook ; 

If  she  be  liked  I  am  forsook. 

Farewell,  false,  and  love  her  still. 

Your  chance  was  good,  but  mine  was  ill. 

No  harm  to  you,  but  this  I  crave. 

That  your  new  love  may  you  deceive. 

And  jest  with  you  as  you  have  done. 

For  light's  the  love  that  quickly  won." 


LI  CI  A  139 

"  Kindj  and  fair-sweet,  once  believe  me  ; 
Jest  I  did  but  not  to  grieve  thee. 
Court  I  did,  but  did  not  love ; 
All  my  speech  was  you  to  prove. 
Words  and  sighs  and  what  I  spent. 
In  show  to  her,  to  you  were  meant. 
Fond  I  was  your  love  to  cross  ; 
Jesting  love  oft  brings  this  loss. 
Forget  this  fault,  and  love  your  friend, 
Which  vows  his  truth  unto  the  end." 
"  Content,"  she  said,  "  if  this  you  keep." 
Thus  both  did  kiss,  and  both  did  weep. 
For  women  long  they  cannot  chide. 
As  I  by  proof  in  this  have  tried. 


140  LICIA 


A  DIALOGUE  BETWIXT  TWO  SEA- 
NYMPHS  DORIS  AND  GALATEA 
CONCERNING  POLPHEMUS;  BRIEFLY 
TRANSLATED  OUT  OF  LUCIAN 

The  sea-nymphs  late  did  play  them  on  the  shore, 
And  smiled  to  see  such  sport  was  new  begun, 
A  strife  in  love,  the  like  not  heard  before. 
Two  nymphs  contend  which  had    the  conquest 

won. 
Doris  the  fair  with  Galate  did  chide  ; 
She  liked  her  choice,  and  to  her  taunts  replied. 


Thy  love,   fair  nymph,  that   courts  thee   <m   this 

plain. 
As  shepherds  say  and  all  the  world  can  tell. 
Is  that  foul  rude  Sicilian  Cyclop-swain  ; 
A  shame,  sweet  nymph,  that  he  with  thee  should 

mell. 


LICIA  141 


Smile  not,  fair  Doris,  though  he  foul  do  seem. 
Let  pass  thy  words  that  savour  of  disgrace  ; 
He's  worth  my  love,  and  so  I  him  esteem. 
Renowned  by  birth,  and  come  of  Neptune's  race, 
Neptune  that  doth  the  glassy  ocean  tame, 
Neptune,  by  birth  from  mighty  Jove  which  came. 


I  grant  an  honour  to  be  Neptune's  child, 

A  grace  to  be  so  near  with  Jove  allied. 

But  yet,  sweet  nymph,  with  this  be  not  beguiled 

Where  nature's  graces  are  by  looks  decried, 

So  foul,  so  rough,  so  ugly  as  a  clown. 

And  worse  than  this,  a  monster  with  one  eye  ! 

Foul  is  not  gracM,  though  it  wear  a  crown, 

But  fair  is  beauty,  none  can  that  deny. 


Nor  is  he  foul  or  shapeless  as  you  say. 
Or  worse  ;  for  that  he  clowniish  seems  to  be 
Rough,  satyr-like,  the  better  he  will  play, 
And  manly  looks  the  fitter  are  for  me. 


142  LI  CI  A 

His  frowning  smiles  are  graced  by  his  beard. 
His  eye-light,  sun-like,  shrouded  is  in  one. 
This  me  contents,  and  others  make  afeard. 
He  sees  enough,  and  therefore  wanteth  none. 


Nay,  then  I  see,  sweet  nymph,  thou  art  in  love, 
And  loving,  dotes  ;  and  doting,  dost  commend 
Foul  to  be  fair ;  this  oft  do  lovers  prove  ; 
I  wish  him  fairer,  or  thy  love  an  end. 


Doris,  I  love  not,  yet  I  hardly  bear 

Disgraceful    terms,    which    you   have    spoke    in 

scorn. 
You  are  not  loved  ;  and  that's  the  cause  I  fear ; 
For  why  ?  My  love  of  Jove  himself  was  bom. 
Feeding  his  sheep  of  late  amidst  this  plain, 
Whenas  we  nymphs  did  sport  us  on  the  shore. 
He  scorned  you  all,  my  love  for  to  obtain ; 
That   grieved    your    hearts ;    I    knew    as    much 

before. 
Nay,  smile  not,  nymphs,  the  truth  I  only  tell, 
For  few  can  brook  that  others  should  excel. 


LI  CI  A  14.'i 


Should  I  envy  that  blind  did  you  that  spite  ? 
Or  that  your  shape  doth  please  so  foul  a  groom  ? 
The  shepherd  thought  of  milkj  you  looked  so  white ; 
The  clown  did  err,  and  foolish  was  his  doom. 

Your  look  was  pale,  and  so  his  stomach  fed ; 

But  far  from  fair,  where  white  doth  want  his  red. 


Though  pale  my  look,  yet  he  my  love  did  crave. 
And  lovely  you,  unliked,  unloved  I  view  ; 
It's  better  far  one  base  than  none  to  have  ; 
Your  fair  is  foul,  to  whom  there's  none  will  sue. 

My  love  doth  tune  his  love  unto  his  harji. 

His  shape  is  rude,  but  yet  his  wit  is  sharp. 

DORIS 

Leave   off,  sweet   nymph,   to   grace   a  worthless 

clown. 
He  itched  with  love,  and  then  did  sing  or  .'ay  ; 
The  noise  was  such  as  all  the  nymphs  did  frown. 
And  well  suspected  that  some  ass  did  bray. 
The  Avoods  did  chide  to  hear  this  ugly  sound 
The  prating  echo  scorned  for  to  repeat ; 


144  LICIA 

This  grisly  voice  did  fear  the  hollow  ground, 
Whilst  artless  fingers  did  his  harpstrings  beat. 
Two  bear-whelps  in  his  arms  this  monster  bore, 
With  these  new  puppies  did  this  wanton  play ; 
Their  skins  was  rough  but  yet  your  loves  was  more ; 
He  fouler  was  and  far  more  fierce  than  they. 
I  cannot  choose,  sweet  nymph,  to  think,  but  smile 
That  some  of  us  thou  fear'st  will  thee  beguile. 

GALATEA 

Scorn  not  my  love,  until  it  can  be  known 
That  you  have  one  that's  better  of  your  own. 


I  have  no  love,  nor  if  I  had,  would  boast ; 

Yet  wooed  have  been  by  such  as  well  might  speed  : 

But  him  to  love,  the  shame  of  all  the  coast. 

So  ugly  foul,  as  yet  I  have  no  need. 

Now  thus  we  learn  what  foolish  love  can  do, 
To  think  him  fair  that's  foul  and  ugly  too. 

To  hear  this  talk,  I  sat  behind  an  oak. 
And    marked  their  words   and    penned   them    as 
they  spoke. 


L I  C I  A  145 


AD  LECTOREM,  DISTICHON 

CUJUSDAM    DE    AUTORE 

Lascivi  quaeres  fuerit  cur  caraiinis  autor : 
Carmine  lascivus,  mente  pudicus  erat. 


146  LI  CI  A 


A   LOVER'S   MAZE 

True   are   my  thoughts,   my   thoughts   that   are 

untrue, 
Bhnd  are  my  eyes,  my  eyes  that  are  not  bhnd. 
New  is  my  love,  my  love  that  is  not  new, 
Kind  is  that  fair,  that  fair  that  is  not  kind. 

Thus  eyes  and  thoughts,  that  fairest  fair,  my  love. 
Blind  and  untrue,  unkind,  unconstant  prove. 

True  are  my  thoughts  because  they  never  flit. 
Untrue  my  thoughts  because  they  me  betrayed ; 
Blind  are  my  eyes  because  in  clouds  I  sit. 
Not  blind  my  eyes  because  I  looks  obeyed. 

Thus  eyes  and  thoughts,  my  dearest  fair  may  view 
In  sight,  in  love,  not  blind,  nor  yet  untrue. 

New  is  my  love  because  it  never  dies. 

Old  is  my  love  because  it  ever  lives  ; 

Kind  is  that  fair  because  it  hate  denies. 

Unkind  that  fair  because  no  hope  it  gives. 
Thus  new  my  love,  and  still  that  fair  unkind, 
Renews  my  love,  and  I  no  favour  find. 


LI  CI  A  147 

Sweet  are  my  dreams,  my  dreams  that   are   not 

sweet. 

Long  are  the  nights,  the  nights  that  are  not  long. 

Meet  are  the  pangs,  these  pangs  that  are  unmeet. 

Wronged  is   my  heart,  my  heart   that   hath  no 

wrong. 

Thus  dreams,  and  night,  my  heart,  my  pangs, 

and  all 
In  taste,  in  length,  conspire  to  work  my  fall. 

Sweet  are  my  dreams  because  my  love  they  show, 
Unsweet  my  dreams  because  but  dreams  they  are  ; 
Long  are  the  nights  because  no  help  I  know. 
Meet  are  the  nights  because  they  end  my  care. 

Thus  dreams  and  nights  wherein  my  love  take 
sport. 

Are  sweet,  unsweet,  are  long,  and  yet  too  short. 

Meet  are  my  pangs  because  I  was  too  bold. 
Unmeet  my  pangs  because  I  loved  so  well ; 
Wronged  was  my  heart  because  my  grief  it  told. 
Not  wronged.     For  why  .''     My  grief  it  could  not 
tell. 
Thus  you  my  love  unkindly  cause  this  smart. 
That  will  not  love  to  ease  my  pangs  and  heart. 


148  LICIA 

Proud  is  her  look,  her  look  that  is  not  proud. 
Done  all  my  days,  my  days  that  are  not  done. 
Loud  are  my  sighs,  my  sighs  that  are  not  loud, 
Begim  my  death,  my  death  not  yet  begun. 

Thus  looks  and  days  and  sighs  and  death  might 
move 

So  kind,  so  fair,  to  give  consent  to  love. 

Proud  is  her  look  because  she  scorns  to  see. 
Not  proud  her  look  for  none  dare  say  so  much  ; 
Done  are  my  days  because  they  hapless  be, 
Not  done  my  days  because  I  wish  them  such. 

Thus  looks  and  days  increase  this  loving  strife. 

Not  proud,  nor  done,  nor  dead,  nor  giving  life. 

Loud  are  my  sighs  because  they  pierce  the  sky. 
Not  loud  my  sighs  because  they  are  not  heard ; 
My  death  begun  because  I  artless  cry. 
But  not  begun  because  I  am  debarred. 

Til  us  sighs   and   death   my  heart   no  comfort 
give; 

Both  life  deny,  and  both  do  make  me  live. 

Bold  are  her  smiles,  her  smiles  that  are  not  bold. 
Wise  are  her  words,  those  words  that  are  not  wise, 


L I  C I  A  149 

Cold  are  her  lips,  those  lips  that  are  not  cold. 
Ice  are  those  hands,  those  hands  that  are  not  ice. 

Thus  smiles  and  words,  her  lips,  her  hands,  and 
she. 

Bold,  wise,  cold,  ice,  love's  cruel  torments  be. 

Bold  are  her  smiles,  because  they  anger  slay. 
Not  bold  her  smiles  because  they  blush  so  oft ; 
Wise  are  her  words  because  they  wonders  say. 
Not  wise  her  words  because  they  are  not  soft. 
Thus  smiles  and  words,  so  cruel  and  so  bold. 
So  blushing  wise,  my  thoughts  in  prison  hold. 

Cold  are  her  lips  because  they  breathe  no  heat. 
Not  cold  her  lips  because  my  heart  they  burn  ; 
Ice  are  her  hands  because  the  snow's  so  great. 
Not  ice  her  hands  that  all  to  ashes  turn. 

Thus  lips  and  hands  cold  ice  my  sorrow  brew ; 

Hands,  warm  white  snow  and  lips  cold  cherry- 
red. 

Small  was  her  waist,  the  waist  that  was  not  small. 
Gold  was  her  hair,  the  hair  that  was  not  gold. 
Tall  was  her  shape,  the  shape  that  was  not  tall ; 
Folding  the  amis,  the  arms  that  did  not  fold. 


150  LI  CIA 

Thus  hair  and  shape,  those  folding  arms  and 

waistj 
Did  make  me  love^  and  loving  made  me  waste. 

Small  was  her  waist,  because  I  could  it  span. 
Not  small  her  waist  because  she  wanted  all ; 
Gold  was  her  hair  because  a  crowTi  it  wan, 
Not  gold  her  hair  because  it  was  more  pale. 

Thus  smallest  waist,  the    greatest  waste    doth 
make, 

And  finest  hair  most  fast  a  lover  take. 

Tall  was  her  shape  because  she  touched  the  sky, 
Not\all  her  shape  because  she  comely  was ; 
Folding  her  arms  because  she  hearts  could  tie, 
Not  folded  arms  because  all  bands  they  pass. 
Thus  shape  and  arms  with  love  my.  heart  did 

That  hers  I  am,  and  must  be  till  I  die. 

Sad  was  her  joy,  her  joy  that  was  not  sad. 
Short  was  her  stay,  her  stay  that  was  not  short. 
Glad  was  her  speech,  her  speech  that  was  not 

glad. 
Sporting  those  toys,  those  toys  that  were  not  sport. 


LICIA  151 

Thus  was  my  heart  with  joy,  speech,  toys  and 

stay, 
Possessed  with  love,  and  so  stol'n  quite  away. 

Sad  was  her  joy  because  she  did  respect. 
Not  sad  her  joy  because  her  joy  she  had. 
Short  was  her  stay  because  to  small  effect. 
Long  was  her  stay  because  I  was  so  sad. 

Thus  joy  and  stay,  both  crossed  a  lover's  sport. 
The  one  was  sad,  the  other  too  too  short. 

Glad  was  her  speech  because  she  spake  her  mind, 
Not  glad  her  speech  because  afraid  to  speak ; 
Sporting  her  toys  because  my  love  was  kind. 
Not  toys  in  sport  because  my  heart  they  break. 

Thus  speech  and  toys  my  love  began  in  jest ; 

Sweet,  yield   to   love,  and   make   thy   senant 
blest. 

Tread  you  the  maze,  sweet  love,  that  I  have  run, 
Mark  but  the  steps  which  I  imprinted  have  ; 
End  but  your  love  whereas  my  thoughts  begun  ; 
So  shall  I  joy  and  you  a  servant  have. 

If  not,  sweet  love,  then  this  my  suit  deny  ; 

So  shall  you  live,  and  so  your  servant  die. 


152  LICIA 


AN   ELEGY 


Down  in  a  bed  and  on  a  bed  of  down. 
Love,  she,  and  I  to  sleep  together  lay  ; 
She  like  a  wanton  kissed  me  with  a  frown. 
Sleep,  sleep,  she  said,  but  meant  to  steal  away  ; 
I  could  not  choose  but  kiss,  but  wake,  but  smile. 
To  see  how  she  thought  us  two  to  beguile. 

She  feigned  a  sleep,  I  waked  her  with  a  kiss  ; 

A  kiss  to  me  she  gave  to  make  me  sleep ; 

If  I  did  wrong,  sweet  love,  my  fault  was  this. 

In  that  I  did  not  you  thus  waking  keep. 

"  Then  kiss  me,  sweet,  that  so  I  sleep  may  take. 
Or  let  me  kiss  to  keep  you  still  awake." 

The  night  drew  on  and  needs  she  must  be  gone  ; 
She  waked  Love,  and  bid  him  leani  to  wait ; 
She  sighed,  she  said,  to  leave  me  there  alone. 
And  bid  Love  stay  but  j)ractise  no  deceit. 


LI  CI  A  1.53 

Love  wept  for  grief,  and  sighintij   made   great 

moan, 
And  could  not  sleep  nor  stay  if  she  were  gone. 

"  Then  stay,  sweet  love  ;  "  a  kiss  with  that  I  gave  ; 

She  could  not  stay,  but  gave  my  kiss  again  ; 

A  kiss  was  all  that  I  could  get  or  crave. 

And  with  a  kiss  she  bound  me  to  remain. 
"  Ah  Licia,"  still  I  in  my  dreams  did  cry, 
"Come,  Licia,  come,  or  else  my  heart  will  die." 


154  LI  CI  A 


Distance  of  place  my  love  and  me  did  part. 
Yet  both  did  swear  we  never  would  remove  ; 
In  sign  thereof  I  bid  her  take  my  hearty 
Which  did,  and  doth,  and  can  not  choose  but  love. 
Thus  did  we  part  in  hope  to  meet  again, 
Where  both  did  vow  most  constant  to  remain. 

A  she  thei'e  was  that  passed  betwixt  us  both, 

By  whom  each  knew  how  other's  cause  did  fare  ; 

For  men  to  trust  men  in  their  love  are  loth  ; 

Thus  had  we  both  of  love  a  lover's  care. 
Haply  he  seeks  his  sorrows  to  renew, 
That  for  his  love  doth  make  another  sue. 

By  her  a  kiss,  a  kiss  to  me  she  sent. 

A  kiss  for  price  more  worth  than  purest  gold. 

She  gave  it  her,  to  me  the  kiss  was  meant ; 

A  she  to  kiss,  what  harm  if  she  were  bold  ? 
Happy  those  lips  that  had  so  sweet  a  kiss. 
For  heaven  itself  scarce  yields  so  sweet  a  bliss  ! 


LICIA  155 

This  modest  she,  blushing  for  shame  of  this. 
Or  loth  to  part  from  that  she  liked  so  well. 
Did  play  false  play,  and  gave  me  not  the  kiss  ; 
Yet  my  love's  kindness  could  not  choose  to  tell. 

Then  blame  me  not,  that  kissing  sighed  and 
swore 

I  kissed  but  her  whom  you  had  kissed  before. 

Sweet,  love  me  more,  and  blame  me  not,  sweet 
love ; 

I  kissed  those  lips,  yet  harmless  I  do  vow ; 

Scarce  would  my  lips  fi-om  off  those  lips  remove. 

For  still  methought,  sweet  fair,  I  kissed  you. 
And  thus,  kind  love,  the  sum  of  all  my  bliss 
Was  but  begun  and  ended  in  a  kiss. 

Then  send    me    more,  but  send    them    by    your 

friend ; 
Kiss  none  but  her,  nor  her,  nor  none  at  all. 
Beware  by  whom  such  treasures  you  do  send, 
I  must  them  lose  except  I  for  them  call. 

And  love  me,  dear,  and  still  still  kissing  be  ; 
Both  like  and  love,  but  none,  sweet  love,  but 
me. 


156  LICIA 


If  sad  complaint  would  show  a  lover's  pain. 
Or  tears  express  the  torments  of  my  heart. 
If  melting  sighs  would  ruth  and  pity  gain. 
Or  true  laments  but  ease  a  lover's  smart ; 

Then  should  my  plaints  the  thunder's  noise  sur- 
mount. 
And  tears  like  seas  should  flow  from  out  my  eyes ; 
Then  sighs  like  air  should  far  exceed  all  count, 
And  true  laments  with  sorrow  dim  the  skies. 

But  plaints  and  tears,  laments  and  sighs  I  spend, 
Yet  greater  torments  do  my  heart  destroy  ; 
I  could  all  these  from  out  my  heart  still  send. 
If  after  these  I  might  my  love  enjoy. 

But  heavens  conspire,  and  heavens  I  must  obey. 
That  seeking  love  I  still  must  want  my  ease ; 
For  greatest  joys  are  tempered  with  delay. 
Things  soon  obtained  do  least  of  all  us  please. 


LI  CIA  157 

My  thoughts  repine  and  think  the  time  too  long, 
My  love  impatient  wisheth  to  obtain  ; 
I  blame  the  heavens  that  do  me  all  this  wrong 
To  make  me  loved  and  will  not  ease  my  pain. 

No  pain  like  this,  to  love  and  not  enjoy ; 
No  grief  like  this,  to  mourn  and  not  be  heard ; 
No  time  so  long  as  that  which  breeds  annoy ; 
No  hell  like  this,  to  love  and  be  deferred  ! 

But  heaven  shall  stand  and  earth  inconstant  fly. 
The  sun  shall  freeze  and  ice  inconstant  bum. 
The  mountains  flow  and  all  the  earth  be  dry. 
Ere  time  shall  force  my  loving  thoughts  to  turn. 

Do  you  resolve,  sweet  love,  to  do  the  same. 

Say  that  you  do,  and  seal  it  with  a  kiss. 

Then  shall   our  truths   the  heavens'  unkindness 

blame 
That  can  not  hurt  yet  show  their  spite  in  this. 

The  silly  'prentice  bound  for  many  years. 
Doth  hope  that  time  his  service  mil  release  ; 
The  town  beseiged  that  lives  in  midst  of  fears. 
Doth  hope  in  time  the  cruel  wars  vill  cease. 


158  LICIA 

The  toiling  plough-man  sings  in  hope  to  reap, 
The  tossdd  bark  expecteth  for  a  shore  ; 
The  boy  at  school  to  be  at  play  doth  leap, 
And  straight  forgets  the  fear  he  had  before. 

If  those  by  hope  do  joy  in  their  distress. 
And  constant  are  in  hope  to  conquer  time, 
Then  let  not  hope  in  us,  sweet  friend,  be  less. 
And  cause  our  love  to  wither  in  the  prime. 

Let  me  conspire  and  time  will  have  an  end. 
So  both  of  us  in  time  shall  have  a  friend. 


FINIS. 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  <Sh'  Co., 
London  &"  Edinburgh. 


p'  University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
1 1 '  305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

'  LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


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